


Out of the Ashes

by thatviciousvixen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ben Solo - Freeform, Hux-centric, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:31:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatviciousvixen/pseuds/thatviciousvixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once General Hux is in a place where life is smooth and everything is going according to plan. Suddenly Ben Solo - rebel, resistance golden boy, son of none other than General Leia Organa herself - is caught aboard The Finalizer. Hux takes Ben's interrogation on for himself, assuming it will be easy enough to get the information he needs then dispose of the rebel scum. What he doesn't expect is to question everything he's ever believed, everything he's ever been told.</p><p>Suddenly he's breaking an important prisoner out under the nose of Leader Snoke and leaving behind his home, his work, his life. There's nothing left for him on Starkiller Base. Is there a life for him within the Resistance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

General Hux has a well known disdain for chaos and disorder. He’s striven his entire life to create a world for himself that runs on strict schedules, a world that is regimented and neat and where nothing is ever out of place. He supposes that part of this comes from his father. Commandant Hux was a man of many rules and guidelines, ones that held severe punishment when they were broken or - worse - ignored. Hux can remember the lashes against his skin, the disappointment in himself that came with failure. He has strategically built a life where failure is simply not an option. 

His beautiful Starkiller base is an excellent example of said structure and strategy. It’s been built to careful specifications, assembled by the finest craftsmen that he could strongarm into the task. Only his best and most loyal Stormtroopers were chosen to oversee construction, and now, finally, he stands on the beautiful weapon of war and looks out at what he has wrought.

“Everything has been completed based on your blueprints and instructions, sir.” The woman standing before him, Lieutenant Cien, is sharply dressed with bright eyes and a triumphant smile on her face. Her blond hair is pulled into a severe bun, her uniform crisp without a single thread out of place. Hux appreciates that in an officer. “The final programming was completed this morning. Construction of the base is finished.” 

Hux turns from the viewport where he’s watched the snowfall as he’s awaited this exact bit of news. He knew it would be coming any day now. Between overseeing Stormtrooper reprogramming and interviewing officers for new positions he needs filled there’s been a persistent itch somewhere in the back of his mind as completion loomed closer and closer, and now it’s here. He has to resist the urge to grin. 

“Well done, Lieutenant. I couldn’t have entrusted this task to anyone else, you’ve done an exemplary job.” He smoothes out the front of his tunic, dropping his arms and standing at sharp attention. “Very well then. Care to give me a tour of our newest weapon in this war?” This is the most relaxed he’ll ever be, joy seeming to radiate from his very person as he prepares for his inspection.

Cien nods eagerly, and the tour begins. Everything seems so much more satisfying on this day of completion, even the sound of his boots clicking against polished floors fills him with a pleasure he can’t express. He’s spent months living on The Finalizer watching his creation take shape, and now he’s among the sharp forms and crisp technology and he’s delighted. Nothing could ruin this day.

“Sir?”

Ah. Apparently the Universe likes a good challenge. He turns to see Lieutenant Mitaka standing before him, eyes wide as he stands at trembling attention. “Sir, General, I’m sorry to interrupt your tour.”

Hux sighs and resists the urge to roll his eyes. As far as his duties go Mitaka is fairly competent, he does his job and he does it well. But for some reason the twitchy little man always looks about ready to jump out of his skin. Hux can’t abide such an inability to keep still. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, you’ve been summoned. Supreme Leader Snoke desires an audience with you.”

Hux nods his thanks and dismisses Mitaka before turning to Cien. “I’m afraid our tour will have to wait, Lieutenant. Please send word to Captain Phasma on The Finalizer and tell her I request her presence for dinner later, if she’d be so kind. I’d like to discuss the training program she’s putting together for the Stormtroopers once she’s got her full numbers transported to base.” He nods and turns, making his way through the building to meet his master.

As Hux winds through the thin walls of Starkiller Base he lets himself admire the architecture, the care put into the design of every room. It all spills in front of him like anything beyond his wildest dreams. He’ll guard it with his life if he has to, this marvel of construction and planning. He’s already eager to be finished with the Supreme Leader so he can go back to admiring it all.

Hux has no qualms with Snoke. He’s found the Leader to be quite agreeable actually, always willing to hear Hux’s ideas for the furthering of their cause and taking them into consideration. It’s why Starkiller base stands here today. Supreme Leader had the good grace to overlook the plans and blueprints and approved of what he saw. Scouting missions for a usable planet began the next day. He’d been generous indeed, delighted at the idea of a weapon so powerful it overshadowed the mere memory of the Death Star.

Still, it’s hard not to be unnerved by a hologram of a man who can read your thoughts without much effort. Hux draws a deep breath and thumbs his code into the datapad, watching the door slide open with a soft hiss before stepping into the chamber.

Snoke already fills the center of the room, imposing and vaguely transparent as the hologram flickers and jolts. He is, as ever, in some sort of large stone throne, leaning against one arm rest as he considers the man before him. “General,” he begins, deep voice filling every inch of the cavernous space. “I appreciate you coming to join me so quickly. I know you must be eager to explore your new base.”

Hux tips his head deferentially. “The base will wait for me, Supreme Leader. Without you I would not have her to begin with. I am at your beck and call.”

Snoke seems pleased by the respect shown. “Very good. I have a job for you, General. One I wish for you to oversee personally. It is a delicate task and requires a calm and careful hand.”

“Anything you require, my Lord.”

There is a moment of silence as Snoke sits back, letting his eyes sweep over the room around him. There’s not much to be seen, it’s a simple conference room with long rows of desks and chairs set low below a dias, everything a stark, matte black so the projection of Snoke is easier to see. He seems to remember himself, fixing his gaze on Hux.

“There was an infiltration of The Finalizer early this morning,” he says. Hux jolts in surprise. He’d heard nothing of a break in, and Phasma herself was in charge of the star destroyer while he completed preparations on Starkiller. “Do not look so startled, General,” Snoke soothes. “Your captain behaved admirably. She neutralized the threat, and instead of bothering you with menial silliness she came to me for guidance. She knew it to be an important prisoner, knew I would have a keen interest.”

Hux frowns, eyebrows knit. He can’t imagine anyone they might need in their current state of planning, anyone other than Luke Skywalker himself who might be useful. “Who is it, my Lord?”

A strange smile twists Snoke’s features. “Ben Solo. Or Ben Organa, depending on what role he is playing at the time.”

Ben Solo. Son of Resistance General Leia Organa, a formidable woman with a long and well-known history among the entire Galaxy. Hux doubts any child has made it through school without learning of her exploits, of her wretched rebellion that brought down the Empire. Of her on again off again partner, the pirate and scoundrel Han Solo. 

A sort of excitement sparks somewhere deep in Hux’s chest. “He’ll know where the Resistance base is located.”

Snoke nods. “Very good, General. Your perception is, as always, appreciated. This mission is too important to fail. I want your specific oversight, I need you to find out what planet they’re hiding on. And once you do, I believe it will be time to test your magnificent design.” 

Pride swells within the General at the praise of his beautiful weapon. He’s eager to turn her on, to see what she can do. “My Lord, I won’t let you down. I’ll get the location out of Solo, and more.”

“Good, my child.” Snoke nods, waving a hand in dismissal. “I will await your report.” Without further conversation he’s gone, leaving Hux and his inexpressible excitement alone in the dark chamber. He turns and walks quickly down the catwalk that leads from the dais to the door, blinking as the light from the hall floods his senses once he’s stepped back out. He’s not sure where to go first. While every inch of him wants to run to Solo and begin the interrogation, it won’t do to be over-hasty. No. He’s got to be careful. 

He decides to visit his quarters, making sure his appearance is neat and polished before he does anything else. He needs to radiate calm, to exude power from every inch of him. He needs Solo to see him for the formidable adversary he is. As he prepares himself he thinks back, trying to focus on one specific memory in particular.

His father had been fairly important among the Academy. It granted them certain opportunities not allowed to other families in the Order, the chance to see the dealings of the New Republic from the front row. Though Hux can’t quite remember what was said he can remember grand forums attended by politicians and royalty from all reaches of the Galaxy. Crowds of painted faces and swirling, ornamental clothes, people brushing him aside as they rushed past, far too important for such a small and sickly looking child.

And in that crowd he could remember a face. Despite the years he can still picture Leia Organa’s face, still see the thin and awkward child clutching to her skirts as the Senator cum General negotiated the crowd with a regal bearing she did not deserve. She was younger than he’d expected. Her face was round and sweet, and she walked as if the very planet had created itself just to give her a place to step. Hux had been ten years old and he had hated her.

Once he’s finished cleaning up he visits the command center, giving Unamo strict instructions on the running of the Base until he’s returned. Finally, he allows himself to be shuttled up to the Finalizer.

Phasma is immediately there to greet him, impressive in her gleaming armor. He considers himself phenomenally lucky to have her. While they don’t always agree on the best methods for training the troops she certainly has a quick and clever head on her shoulders. “General,” she greets, cape slung over one shoulder as she approaches. “I do apologize for not contacting you sooner, I was told you were unreachable.”

Hux holds up a hand to silence her apologies. “No, no need Captain. You did well. Going to Leader Snoke was admirably quick thinking, this was an instance where I would only serve as a middle man. Well decided. Where is the captive being held?”

“Room nine, sir,” she informs, her voice mechanical behind her mask. “My men haven’t touched him, I assumed you would want to speak to him first.”

“Another good call,” Hux agrees. “Has he told us anything yet?”

Phasma shakes her head. “No sir. He’s done nothing but swear at the guards who brought him into the cell, childish name calling and nothing more.”

“Interesting. Captain, continue command of The Finalizer, I’ll see to Solo. Unamo is in charge of operations on Base, she is to be your point of contact if you need anything below.” He nods when she salutes, dismissing her before turning and continuing on his path.

Room nine is a holding cell just like any other, nothing truly special about it. It’s got an interrogation chair, a command console, some tables and chair littered around the small space. Hux knows the room just like he knows every other, just like he knows every officer and trooper and mechanic and janitor on his beloved ship and base. It’s his job to know. It’s only through diligence and careful planning that he’s able to keep his reigns on the ship tight, and no detail is too small for his awareness.

Still, the door seems new and strange as it beckons him closer. There’s an odd excitement in his chest at the prospect of finding the Resistance base and crushing the rebellion at its source. He keys in his code, walking in before shutting and locking the door carefully behind him.

Hux tucks his hands behind his back, posture perfect as he regards the man bound in the interrogation chair. Ben Solo doesn’t quite look like either of his parents, and certainly nothing like the pretty twink Luke Skywalker was always made out to be in the old holorecords Hux had studied at the Academy. There’s a certain ungainliness to him, an awkwardness of limb and face that Hux can’t decide is charming or repulsive. He’s got deep eyes, a sort of messy green-blue-brown, framed by thick lashes that dust against his cheeks every time he blinks. His hair hangs to his chin and falls in his face until he flicks it back with a quick jerk of his head. His nose seems to be too long for his face, and his lips are thick and lush and smirking in a way that’s already infuriating. 

Walking a slow circle around the rebel, Hux carefully considers his first question before speaking. He stops to stand in front of Solo, barely two feet between them. “Answer one questions truthfully. Just the one, and then I’ll allow you to play any game you wish.”

“One question? This’ll be a short interrogation,” Solo replies with a grin, quirking an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

Hux tilts his head to the side, eyebrows raised. “I must admit it’s more out of personal curiosity than professional necessity. Are you able to wield the Force? I’ve been curious for some time now. I know your mother is no Jedi, but with your uncle’s power I was curious how such a recessive gene might play out in your family tree.”

Solo looks shocked for the briefest moment. It’s clear enough that he wasn’t expecting that particular question as Hux’s first. He quickly schools his features, giving the best shrug he can manage with his arms bound. “No. Force sensitive, yeah. A bit. But I’m no Jedi.”

At that Hux can only laugh. He takes in Solo’s posture, the casual clothing he wears; a simple white shirt with the sleeves rucked up to his elbows and a deep neckline that shows off his collarbones, homespun grey pants that have been let out at the hem to allow for his extraordinary height, worn brown boots that have clearly seen their share of action. His hands are too big, his feet are too big, everything is too big. “No, you’re certainly not.”

Ben grins, flicking his head back once more to push his hair out of his face. He bites his lip, eyes raking over Hux’s figure as the General paces before him. “Has anyone ever told you you’re astoundingly attractive, General? That hair, your pale skin...I’ve never seen anything quite like you.”

Hux snorts, turning to face him head on. “What, will you ask me next what a pretty thing like myself is doing in a place like this? Or maybe if I come to this particular interrogation chamber often?” He shakes his head. “I’m disappointed, Mr. Solo. I would expect the son of the legendary Han Solo to have better lines that that.” To say he’s unshaken by the brazen flirting would be an understatement. This isn’t his first interrogation and it’s certainly not the first time someone has tried to use sex to get out of torture. What’s more, Hux knows he’s fairly attractive by normal standards. Between his light eyes, the rare color of his hair, and his high-born carriage he’d have to be simple to deny that he’s well put together. He’s used to this sort of nonsense by now, people making bold statements about his appearance to try and win his favor.

“Well, I could unleash my full arsenal on you but we only just met and I try to be a gentleman.” Solo winks. “Try, at least.”

“Well, do attempt to keep trying,” Hux drawls, face impassive. He moves to the chair in the corner, dragging it closer so he can sit a few feet away from his prisoner. “You look very tired, Mr. Solo. You must have gone on quite the adventure today, for it to bring you right to my door.”

Another shrug. “I was in the neighborhood. Call me Ben, by the way. Mr. Solo is a lot more formal than I deserve.” 

Hux smiles, crossing his feet at the ankle. “Ben. Very well then, Ben it is.”

Ben smiles and tries to lean in closer. “And what can I call you, pretty?”

“General Hux will do.”

The prisoner’s face falls in mock disappointment. “No first name? I thought we had something between us, General.”

“No first name that I use,” Hux admits. “ I share a name with my father. He was a wholly unpleasant man and I don’t wish to carry on his memory through my actions and successes. I want my hard work to be attributed to my actions alone and not his well-known legacy.” He’s not afraid to give these little slips of information away, it’s a tactic that’s worked often enough before. Let the prisoner think you’re on their side, that you’re showing them kindness. It makes it easier to coax the information you need out of them when the time comes. “Are you named for anyone?”

“Some old man I’ll never meet,” Ben says, still wearing that damnable grin. “Ben Kenobi? You’ve probably heard of him.”

Hux gives a small inclination of his head to agree. “I have. I studied history during my time at the Academy, I’m well versed with your family’s long and convoluted tale. Obi Wan Kenobi, the Jedi who plucked Luke Skywalker from the dusty wasteland of Tattooine and started his grand adventure. The Jedi your mother reached out to in her time of need, just before the only home she’d ever known was destroyed.” Hux raises an eyebrow. “Killed by your grandfather, wasn’t he?”

“So I’m told.” Ben seems unphased by the reminder. “Anakin Skywalker killed a decent amount of people before the call to the Light grew too strong for him to resist. In the end he couldn’t turn on his own son, I guess there’s something to be said for that.”

Hux clasps his hands politely in his lap, listening intently as Ben speaks. He’s sure it appears that he’s an active listener, polite and attentive, but with every word he’s looking for a crack that might expose the best weakness in Ben’s facade. And a facade it clearly is. So awkward a man with so wild a family history couldn’t possibly grow up to be so bold. He hasn’t earned his attitude.

“Can I offer you some water before we continue, Ben?” he asks, standing and moving to a small table behind the prisoner. He plucks up a pitcher, pouring crystal clear water into a glass and bringing it back around. “You must be very thirsty, it’s my understanding that you’ve been in here quite some time shouting obscenities at your guards.”

Ben eyes the glass before he looks back up at Hux. “Can I ask you a question and get the same honesty I’ve given you?”

Hux smiles. “Of course. We are men of honor, lies do not become us.”

“Sure. Is that water poisoned or drugged?”

Hux laughs, shaking his head. “Neither would be wise or productive on my part. Poison would do me no good. I need information from you, I can’t have you dead. And drugs are unreliable. You might talk to me, but there’s no guarantee that what you’d say would be the truth. You might make up some fantastic story due to a hallucination and never know yourself that your words were false.”

“That’s a long answer,” Ben points out. “So that’s a no?”

“That’s a no. Here, watch.” Hux brings the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip and letting the refreshing liquid slide down his throat. “It’s lovely actually. Nice and cold. Would you like some?”

Ben watches him for a long moment before nodding. Hux steps closer, holding the glass to those smirking lips and carefully helping his prisoner drink. Ben’s Adam’s apple bobs fitfully as he takes sip after sip, draining the glass before he’s satisfied.

“More?” Hux offers, holding up the empty glass.

“No, I’m feeling much better now,” Ben grins. “Shall we get down to business?”

Hux sets the glass back on the table before returning to his chair. “Let’s. Do you care to tell me why you’re on my ship?”

“I do not,” Ben responds, grinning wide.

“Very well.’ Hux expected as much. “Will you at least tell me of the events leading up to your capture? I can get them from my datapad if I wish, but since I’m already here perhaps you’d save me the extra steps?”

Ben seems to consider the question for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. I can give you that.’ He wriggles a bit, trying to get comfortable despite the metal rings clamped around his wrists and ankles. “We were near your mess hall when we were spotted.”

Hux glances down at his pad, scrolling a bit through his report. “‘We’ being yourself and three companions. Two men and a girl?”

“A woman,” Ben corrects. “It’s sort of rude to call her a girl when you call us men, don’t you think?”

“You’re absolutely right. My apologies, please continue.” 

Ben grins. “So we were by the mess hall when we were spotted. Your Stormtroopers are lousy shots, do you know that? They saw us and opened fire, dozens of them, and not a one hit us. Your walls are probably charred for life though. Still, there were too many of them for us to sneak by and escape. So I offered to stay behind as a distraction while the others made a break for it.” 

“That’s altruistic of you,” Hux comments. “You’ll be pleased to know that we’ve found no trace of your friends on The Finalizer, and that one of our transport ships is missing.”

Ben sags a bit at the knowledge, relief washing over his face. “Good. That means they got away.”

Hux hums and nods. “It would seem so. Would you care to tell me where they’re going?”

“No thanks,” Ben laughs, shaking his head. “Is that your interrogation technique? Ask nicely? It’s a strange one, I can’t imagine it works very often.”

Hux smiles and leans forward, quirking an eyebrow. “It’s not a technique, Ben. Your interrogation hasn’t even begun. It’s me giving you an option to save your own skin before the real questioning starts tomorrow.” He stands, returning to pacing the length of the floor in front of Ben. “It won’t be pretty, mind. My men are raised from birth to be ruthless, many of them spend their entire lives itching for the chance to prove their worth. To take out their aggression on unwilling flesh. So I’ll ask you one last time, Ben. Would you like to speak to me freely, or would you like to do this the hard way?”

In the silence that follows Hux can see a range of emotions flicker of Ben Solo’s face. There’s defiance, disdain, even open hatred directed at him as the man decided on his best course of action. Finally he schools his features into a carefree smile, letting his head rest back against the metal of the chair. 

“I think I’ll stick to the hard way. Means we’ve got a date tomorrow for me to look forward to.”

Hux shakes his head, clucking his tongue. “If you wish, Ben. Just remember that I gave you fair warning. I tried to do this the civilized way.’ He opens the door to the chamber, beckoning the guards in. “See Mr. Solo to a room, make sure he’s well fed and comfortable. He is a guest, not a prisoner. Full detail at his door, a half-cycle for each guard before detail is switched.” He looks back to Ben, biting his lip. “Until tomorrow, Ben.”

Ben grins, winks. “I’ll be counting the minutes, Hux.”

Before the Stormtroopers can undo Ben’s restraints Hux is gone, footsteps precise as he sees himself to the shuttle that will return him to Starkiller. He has business to attend to elsewhere.


	2. Chapter 2

Hux wakes the next morning with a certain lightness about him. While he knows he hasn’t quite earned optimism about the Ben Solo situation yet, he can’t help but think that the whole ordeal will turn out rather well for him. He pulls up his datapad, ordering breakfast for two to be delivered to his office on The Finalizer before leaving the warmth of his bed and preparing for his day. His shower is hot, his shaving razor is cold, and everything that comes after is a sort of tepid mildness that he’s come to expect from life in the Unknown Regions.

As he leaves his quarters he dwells on Ben. What a curious thing he is. He’s certainly got the Han Solo “roguish grin” down pat, but in that one fleeting moment of anger he was all Leia Organa’s rage and defiance. Hux wonders if he can tap into the spring of darkness, can turn it into something the Order can use. Wouldn’t that be quite the feat? Ben Solo, a defector and loyal member of The First Order. A blunt instrument just like the rest of them, finally able to serve his higher purpose.

He’s getting ahead of himself.

The shuttle to The Finalizer is quiet and calm, allowing him time to review the reports he’d only skimmed through the night before. His first interview with Solo had taken up a great deal of his focus, it wasn’t until he was tucked under the covers that he remembered the myriad of other duties he had yet to complete. It had taken him until well into the dreary hours of early morning to finish it all. He hides a small yawn behind a polite hand, blinking and letting his thoughts turn to the day ahead.

Hux needs Ben to comply and he needs him to do it quickly. There are options as to how to make this happen. There’s always pain, but pain seems like the easy solution to a complicated task. You never quite know if answers given under duress are the truth or a well constructed lie to make the pain stop. Besides, he doubts Ben Solo will cave to such pressure. He’s built like the broad side of an AT-AT and he’s just as thick. 

No, respect and mutual understanding will be the only way to go with such a prisoner. That and a healthy dose of promises Hux has no intention of keeping. 

As he departs the shuttle and steps into the busy docking bay of The Finalizer he can’t help but notice everyone is in a particular sort of mood today. Stormtroopers who would normally salute and then keep to their business seem to scurry out of his way, and the technicians manning the control panels and computers are quick to turn their eyes to their screens as he passes. It’s odd. He’s never been the kind to instill fear in his men, and, therefore, isn’t used to such a fearful reception. With a shake of his head and the pressing urge to roll his eyes he continues on, walking into the depths of the ship and towards the holding cells.

He finds Phasma already standing at Ben Solo’s holding room door, helmet off as she holds a furious conversation with the troopers on duty.

“And who exactly ordered such foolish and reckless stupidity? General Hux gave express orders to treat the prisoner as a guest, and while I don’t exactly want to invite the man over for tea I certainly don’t see the wisdom in disobeying direct orders.” Her blue eyes flash with anger, silver-blonde hair falling on her face as she looms over the men. “I’m not going to cover for such idiocy, you’ll have to answer for this yourself.”

“Answer for what, Captain?” Hux strolls up with his hands clasped behind him, eyebrows lifted. He may enjoy the sound of his own boot steps across a tile floor, but he knows how to walk silently when the situation calls for it.

Three heads turn sharply in Hux’s direction, and immediately Phasma narrows her eyes. “Sir, I apologize. I don’t know what came over my men, but some took it upon themselves to...loosen up the prisoner.” The Stormtroopers to her left, at least, have the decency to look ashamed, bowing their heads and shuffling their weight from foot to foot. 

A flair of anger immediately uncoils low in Hux’s stomach. “Loosen him up? Captain, I hope you’re not telling me that two soldiers had the audacity to lay their hands on a prisoner that I expressly commanded be treated with respect.”

Phasma huffs out a breath. “I’m deeply sorry, General. I’ve already launched an inquisition into the whole mess, and the two responsible have already been sent for reconditioning.”

Hux considers this before nodding. He allows himself a moment to take a calming breath, in and out before he speaks. “Very well. I trust your judgment, Captain, and wouldn’t deem to hold such a rare occurrence against you. Thank you for acting so quickly to neutralize the issue.” He turns his cold gaze upon the troopers, frowning. “Make sure your peers know how these two were dealt with. The Order doesn’t appreciate soldiers going against a direct command.” He shakes his head, keying his code into the pad. “Stay near. We’re going to relocate the prisoner to my office, and once we’re there you can guard the door while we talk.” The door opens and he slips inside, letting it slide shut behind him.

Ben Solo lays sprawled out on the cot in the cell, his feet dangling off the edge as he shields his eyes with one large hand. Hux can already tell that the rogue troopers did quite the number on him. There’s a deep cut on his lip that still seems angry and red, a spatter of blood down the front of his shirt. When he removes his hands and looks up Hux can see the bright bruises blooming around both eyes.

“Good Lord,” Hux sighs, shaking his head. “Ben, I apologize. I’m sure it’s going to seem like some sort of tactic to you, but I truly didn’t sanction such barbaric actions.”

Ben swings his legs around to sit, eying him warily. He looks tired. His body sags, holding none of the bravadoes of the previous day. “I’m sure.” He gingerly touches one of his bruises, wincing. “Back to the interrogation chamber?”

Hux shakes his head, offering him a hand. Ben takes it, his palm warm and dry against Hux’s as he stands. “No, not today. I told you, you’re to be treated as a guest. We’ll be speaking in my office, I’ve had food sent up for us. It should be ready by the time we arrive.”

This earns him another wary look as Ben shoves his hands into his pockets. “This seems...odd.” 

“I don’t believe pain and torture are useful tactics during interrogation,” Hux says, shrugging an elegant shoulder. “Violence has its place, but this isn’t it. If you’ll follow me. And do try to behave, the Stormtroopers may be slow and dull but Phasma is a formidable adversary.” With that he waves Ben into the hall, the sound of various footfalls drumming behind him as he leads the way. He’s sure many would say he’s mad, leading such an important Resistance figure with no shackles or cuffs. The thing is, he can already read Ben Solo like an open book. He just needs help translating some of the pages.

He opens the door to his office, allowing Ben inside. “After you. You two, guard the door. And remember what happened to the last two to disobey my orders.” He sighs, shaking his head. “Captain Phasma, you’re dismissed.” With orders issued he lets the door slide shut and joins Ben in his office.

It’s a simple enough room though comfortably furnished as Hux spends more time here than in his own bedroom. The far wall is a large viewport, framing the overwhelming blackness of space beyond. Before it is his comfortable leather chair and a large desk kept neat and tidy and polished to a high shine. There are two soft chairs before his desk, a leather couch on the left wall, and a wet bar to the right.

“Pick a seat, wherever you’re most comfortable,” Hux says, moving to his desk and taking the chair behind. “I apologize again for what you’ve been put through.”

Ben shoots him a Look, limping carefully to one of the chairs across from Hux. He slides down, sighing in relief as the weight is taken off of his aching body. “You know your act is crystal clear, right?”

“Mm? Do tell?” Hux pulls a silver tray with various dishes closer so that he can set everything out. Breakfast is simple - every meal is simple in the Unknown Regions - but the benefit of his rank is getting the better bits when they’re available. Breakfast is the same sludgy gray porridge as always, but there’s a thick golden syrup to add flavor and plenty of hot caf for the two of them to share. “Do you take sugar in your caf? Cream?”

“I drink it black,” Ben says, watching him closely. “Anyway. This act. Where they beat me and you swoop in for the rescue. I know what you’re doing. You want me to trust you so I open up like a flower and tell you everything you want to know.”

Hux laughs softly, pouring two steaming mugs before passing one to Ben. “While it is a popular tactic, it’s not one I have myself adopted. If there is one thing I don’t tolerate it is disobedience among the ranks. I promise you the men who beat you are being properly dealt with at this very moment.” He uncovers their bowls, once more sliding one to Ben. “I’ll let you sweeten your breakfast yourself. The porridge is quite bland but the syrup is rich, you might want to add a bit and taste before dumping too much in.”

Ben spoons up a bit of the hot cereal, taking the gray sludge in his mouth before making a face. He chokes it down, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth. “Oh my God. You eat this stuff?”

“Every morning,” Hux nods, adding a small spoonful of sweetener and stirring it in. “And for lunch and dinner when supplies are sparse. What it lacks in flavor it makes up in health benefits. It’s nutritionally balanced, all the protein, carbohydrates, and vitamins one needs to get them through the day.” He laughs at Ben’s face. “We don’t have great access to fresh crops where we are, Ben. You learn to work with what you have.”

“That’s terrible. I’m designing a recruitment poster with this stuff on it to convince people to join the Resistance,” Ben says, shaking his head. Still, he manages to shut up for a few blessed minutes to fill his stomach. After dumping in half a bowl of syrup, of course. Hux watches with interest, every little detail from the way he sips his caf to the way he hunches over while he eats. He may put on a good show, but his posture and bearing aren’t that of a man who truly believes in himself.

Once breakfast is consumed and cleared away Hux gets down to business. He folds his arms, leaning them against his desk and looking Ben dead in the eye. “Your mother. She’s head of the Resistance, is she not? Acting General with no higher ranking member to command her.”

Ben raises an eyebrow, sinking a bit lower in his chair and letting his legs splay open. “I feel like that’s fairly common knowledge.”

“It is,” Hux assures. “I just find it interesting that you have no real leader to give you direction.”

Ben looks up, and for a moment, his eyes flash. He pushes down whatever rage he’s feeling before answering. “Trust me. She’s exactly the leader they need.”

“And why is that?”

The question earns Hux a lopsided grin and a huff of laughter. “You know why. You don’t need me to give you insider details on why my mother is an incredible woman. The stories practically tell themselves. Hoth, Endor. She’s an asset to the Resistance.”

Hux sits with his usual perfect posture, hands clasped in his lap and legs crossed at the ankle. “You seem to think very highly of her.”

“Who doesn’t?” Ben shrugs, letting his eyes wander around the room. “She’s great.”

“I’m sure.” Hux stands, taking a casual turn around the room. “It must have been difficult, being raised by such an important figure. Always having to fight with the rest of the Republic for scraps of attention.” 

He once more sees that flash of memory, the regal woman and the curious boy hiding behind her. He doesn’t have much memory of a young Ben Solo. Ben is a few years younger than Hux, so at the time, he had been barely noticeable to a self-important young boy. All he can really remember is the boy’s awkward ears, too large for such a small thing. He wonders if Ben’s ears still don’t match the rest of him, he wears his hair long enough to hide the answer to such a question.

Ben’s voice cuts through his musings. “You’ll have to try harder, General. It’s common knowledge that my mother is a busy woman and I spent a lot of time with sitters and nannies. I’m not really sitting over here festering in misery over her absence.”

Hux focuses on him, grinning. “You sound defensive.”

The attitude of the man sitting before him can only be defined as “sullen.” Ben folds his arms, shrugging. “I just don’t get this. You’re sitting here being so polite and proper and not asking me any real questions. Is that your tactic? Are you just going to sit there frustrating me until I crack and tell you everything?”

“That’s it,” Hux drawls. “You’re on to me.”

“Alright, well you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours,” Ben offers, perking up at the thought. “For everything you tell me about yourself, I’ll tell you something about me. Deal?”

Hux considers the offer. “I’m afraid you won’t find me very interesting.”

“That’s for me to decide. Do we have a deal?”

Silence fills the space between them, only the gentle hiss of the air filtration unit cutting through. Hux considers the deal. There are plenty of useful things he can learn about Ben, and the more he talks the more Hux can examine him for cracks and flaws. He himself knows how each weakness can be used against him, is careful not to give the wrong things away. Besides, the more Ben thinks he knows the more he’ll trust and open up. Stockholm Syndrome is a beautiful thing. 

“Alright,” he agrees, a slow smiling curling his lips. “Let’s begin.”

-

“So I don’t know. My dad hasn’t been around much, really. He’s always off on some weird adventure, most of which probably aren’t very legal. But...eh. I try not to ask too many questions.”

Their positions have changed drastically. Ben now lies stretched out on the couch, legs crossed and arms behind his head, staring absently at the ceiling while he talks. Hux stands, leaning against the edge of his desk as he delicately holds his mug of caf in both hands. It’s amazing really, how quickly his prisoner has loosened up. He’s still careful to withhold all the pertinent information, but anything he deems inconsequential comes flowing from him like a waterfall. His family, his education, his best friend growing up. Hux takes it all in, nodding with polite interest as each new bit of information comes spilling out.

Finally Ben sits up, focusing on the man across the room. “Alright, it’s your turn again.”

Hux purses his lips to hide a smile. “And what would you like to know? You know my favorite book and my favorite food, and that I never learned how to pilot a craft. What now?”

“Your family,” Ben requests. “Tell me about them.”

Hux clucks his tongue, turning one of the chairs to face the couch and sinking into it. “My family is a complicated subject.”

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

This is true enough. Hux draws a breath and begins. “My father was a Commandant for the First Order. For much of my life, he taught at the academy where I was trained and was quite well known for his ruthlessness and strange dealings around the school. My mother was the daughter of a governor. The marriage was arranged for them as a political tactic, to strengthen the Hux family name and the bank account of her father.”

“I’ve never understood arranged marriages,” Ben muses. “Wouldn’t you rather marry for love and suffer through the rest?”

Hux can’t hide his sniff of disdain. “Not all of us have the luxury of romance, Mr. Solo.”

“Trust me,” Ben snorts. “Romance isn’t always a luxury. Any siblings?”

“Two. Younger sisters. Twins, actually.” 

“And? Their names?”

Hux is approaching his cut off point. It’s a fine line, in sharing information he gains the trust of the captive, but if he keeps talking he defeats his own purpose. “Hyllan and Brinn,” he says, trying not to think about the twins and how they must be fairing back on his home planet. He hasn’t spoken to them in quite some time. He really ought to write a letter. “And now it’s your turn again.”

Ben hums, pulling himself to sitting. “What do you want to know? And don’t be obvious and ask me where our base is.”

“Alright,” Hux smiles, moving over to join Ben on the couch. “Tell me about your childhood.”

Ben turns to look at him, considering the question. Hux can see a thousand thoughts flutter over that expressive face, pulling his brows in for a moment before he smooths his sullen expression and smiles. He moves a bit closer, imposing himself upon Hux’s personal space. “It was pretty good. Fairly uneventful, really.” 

The proximity of their bodies gives Hux pause. He’s been physically close to people before, of course he has. You can’t make it through life without brushing a few shoulders. But those interactions always seemed to be on his own terms. Having Ben this close, their knees nearly touching, it startling.

“I don’t think your life could be called uneventful,” he finally manages. “Do you know I’ve seen you before? When we were quite young.”

Frowning, Ben turns a bit more to face him. “What? When?”

“At a Senate meeting, some years ago. My father had been invited as a guest,” Hux explains, standing and walking away to break the tension he’s feeling. “I was...oh, roughly ten years old at the time? So you must have been six. I remember seeing your mother, being amazed by how young she looked. My father has always had that battle-hardened quality about him, always older than his age. But not your mother, she was quite radiant and commanding.”

Ben’s features are carefully schooled, face impassive as he listens to Hux. This is it, the weak spot. Every time Hux mentions his mother or his childhood he goes stiff and dark, his cocksure attitude cracking and falling away. It’s a victory; a small one but a victory nonetheless.

He continues. “There was a boy standing behind her. Very small, very thing. I’d wager perhaps five or six years old? How old are you know?”

“Thirty,” Ben answers, voice clipped.

“Ah, yes. Four years younger than me, so you must have been around six. You watched the world with the widest eyes, so startled and unsure of the world and the people around you. They had no time for children like us. Even myself in a child’s uniform modeled after my father’s, standing in rapt attention and drinking it all in.”Hux gets up to pour himself another mug of caf. He’s hard far too much, but it gives him something to do while he speaks. “But you. You were dressed in simple clothing, I suppose your mother didn’t want to subject you to the same preening she always dealt with in her youth.” He turns, meeting Ben’s eyes. “To this day, I’ve never forgotten how innocent you looked, how young. Tell me, Ben, what happened to all of that innocence?”

There it is. That darkness Hux has been trying to probe, the anger and fear and fury of the Skywalker bloodline. Ben stands, eyes flashing as he stalks close. “Do you want to know what happened to it? You did. You and your Order, laying waste to everything that doesn’t fit into your perfect plan.” He stalks a few feet away before turning, angrily swiping Hux’s effects off of his desk. The leftover caf goes flying and hit the wall.

Ben balls his fists, and it looks for all the world like he’s going to hit Hux. “Do you know how many people I’ve seen die? How many lives you’ve destroyed? And never with your own hand, you sit pretty in a command center and make other people do the dirty work for you.”

“And how many battles has your mother fought in?” Hux asks, bored with the aggression already.

“Plenty! Hoth, Endor, she’s held a blaster in her hands more times than you ever will! More than I-” Suddenly he snaps his mouth shut, swallowing hard. “I’m done talking for the day.”

Hux smiles softly, setting his mug down. “Have I struck a nerve, Ben?”

Ben snorts, turning away. “Have your men take me back to my cell. I’d rather stare at the walls than speak to you.”

Walking over to his desk, Hux hits the button for the comm system. “Our guest is ready to return to his room.” In the course of a moment the Stormtroopers enter the office, blasters trained on Solo just in case he tries to make a run for it. Hux steps close until he’s mere inches away, their faces close together. “Some men may know the thick of it, firing the blasters. But someone has to make the gun, Mr. Solo.” 

With a wave of his hand he excuses the men to take Ben away, turning to clean up the mess that’s been made of his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo buddy that one was dialogue heavy. 
> 
> As usual, I'm [here](http://that-vicious-vixen.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


	3. Chapter 3

“Would you like to stretch your legs a bit? I’ve put in a request to let you use the running belts in the gymnasium.” Hux is leaning casually against the door to Kylo’s cell, eyebrows raised. It’s been four days now. Most of their conversations have been casual, simple chats about food or their favorite books. Hux was rather annoyed to find Ben has had access to so many more pieces of literature than him, the Order keeps close control of what he himself is able to obtain. 

Every now and then Hux will strike a nerve, every now and then Ben will do the same.

Hux has begun to look forward to their meetings, each new piece of information freely given by Solo feels like some grand victory no matter how small or unimportant. Ever since the first day together he seems to fling himself out of bed with vigor, dressing particularly carefully and with little bits of added flair. At their third meeting he even dared to dress down, wearing a simple white dress shirt and slacks instead if his uniform. It felt rebellious. Dangerous. Ben had teased him mercilessly during their interview.

“I don’t like to be teased,” Hux had drawled, sitting primly behind in his chair.

Ben had smirked, arms folded as he watched Hux from his chair across the desk. “I don’t know, General. I think I could make you like being teased.”

That had seemed like a good place to end the conversation for the day.

“Is this a scheme to get me sweaty and half naked?” Ben asks with a grin, sitting up.

He stares down at Ben, letting his eyes rake over his long form. A myriad of well-placed barbs dance through his mind, he catalogues them and stores them for later use. “Well? Do you want to get some exercise or not?” He’s become used to Ben’s attempts at flirting, and while he plays the ice princess well he can’t deny that it’s flattering. Ben is...strange looking, but not exactly unattractive. 

Ben considers the offer for a moment. He’s debating saying no just for the sake of being irritating, Hux can tell. Finally he stands, nodding. “Sounds good. Do you have something for me to wear?” He’s currently dressed in standard issue Order clothing, black trousers and a simple black shirt, nothing special or flashy. Somehow though they make him look taller, his shoulders broader and his waist slimmer.

“I do.” Hux waves a trooper over, taking the clothes from him and passing them to Ben. “Take your time, your escort will lead you to the training room when you’re ready.” With a nod he excuses himself, making his way to the locker rooms to change into his own gym uniform. Loose black pants tie at his waist with a drawstring, ending about mid-calf to give him more range of motion. His shirt is the same black, a loose v-neck with short sleeves. Once he’s ready he pads barefoot into the training room to wait.

A few minutes later Ben joins him, and it takes all of Hux’s willpower not to have to scrape his jaw off of the floor. It took some digging to find gym clothes that would fit Ben, finally locating a black tank and black sweatpants. In the sleeveless top his muscular arms are on display, and the shirt is tight enough that Hux can make out every muscle along his chest and abs.

Hux is taken aback, mouth suddenly very dry. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up, but when he does he steps forward to his “guest.” “Is there anything else you need? I’ve had water brought up for us, and towels. When we’re done I’ll allow you to shower in the lockers.”

“Kind of you,” Ben snorts. “Are you going to make me follow some program, or do I get to do what I want?”

Hux waves his hand to gesture towards the entirety of the room. “Do as you will. Just remember that if you decide now is a good time to kill me I’ll be extremely put out.”

The laughter Hux earns in response is oddly charming. He shakes his head, moving to the running belts. They’re simple treadmills programmed so the user can walk, jog, or run at their leisure. Hux usually spends the beginnings of his workouts jogging lightly before moving on to other activities. “Belt two to speed five, incline two,” he calls, moving into action as the machine begins to move.

Ben watches for a moment before joining him, setting his own speed to match. “So what, are we supposed to chat while we’re running together?”

“If you’re able to talk then you’re not working hard enough,” Hux points out with a grin. “Here, let me help. Belt three to speed seven.” He laughs as Ben’s treadmill speeds up, long legs picking up the pace to keep up. Ben shoots him a glare but manages the new setting just fine. They fall into an oddly comfortable silence for a captive and his captor, running beside each other and trading little quips and snatches of conversation when they’ve got the breath to do so. Soon Hux is sweating, shirt sticking to his chest and lower back. He powers down, walking over to grab a cup of water. “Don’t forget to hydrate.”

“Again, thanks for looking out for me,” Ben calls sardonically, breathless. He shut down his own machine, walking over to take the cup offered to him by Hux. “Spar with me?”

Hux can only laugh, eyes wide and incredulous. “You’re not serious, are you? Absolutely not, why would I put myself in a position where you have free reign to hit me?”

“I might kick you a little, too. Mix things up.” Ben smirks, folding his arms. “Afraid?”

“Not stupid, is all,” Hux says. “Are you done, or are you simply taking a quick break to irritate me?”

“Just the second one,” Ben says, shrugging before turning and wandering to the free weights. Hux lets him use the facility for quite some time, occasionally checking his watch but never opening his mouth to rush him along. He himself wanders from station to station, stretching out, running some more, whatever he decides on at the spur of the moment. While he tries to maintain his fitness he’s never had much interest in putting on a ton of unnecessary bulk - his place is in the command center, no need to compromise his lean, lithe frame.

Finally Ben stops, running a hand through his sweat-slick hair. “Okay. Shower.” He follows as Hux leads him through a door and into the locker rooms, clothing, towels and toiletries already set out for both men. Ben grins and leers at Hux. “Should we conserve water and use one stall?”

“Again, I worry about your lines and attempts at flirting,” Hux says, voice bland. “I can’t imagine those work for you very often.”

“No,” Ben laughs. “They don’t.”

They take their time washing up, Hux choosing a shower a few rows away from Ben’s so there’s no risk of being ambushed while he’s naked and covered in soap. Once they’re clean, dry and dressed they meet by the exit door, Ben pushing his still-dripping hair out of his face. “Back to your place?” he asks, tossing his towel on a nearby bench. Hux’s own is hanging neatly on a hook by his shower stall.

“As always,” Hux nods, leading Ben into the hallway. The Stormtroopers on duty perk up, once again useful and under the watchful eye of their General. “Nothing too terribly long today, though. I’ve got meetings to attend in the evening and I’d like some time to prepare my reports before I’m expected.”

They retire to the comfort of Hux’s office, Ben once more taking his place on the couch as Hux leans against the front of his desk. “Shall I pick the topic today? Or would you like to start by telling me the location of the base?”

For a long moment Ben is silent, regarding the man before him with a quiet sort of intensity. Hux would squirm under the scrutiny if he weren’t so well trained at standing still. Those eyes are too intense, too...personal. He feels pinned, like maybe this Resistance lothario can see right to the heart of him. Not that he really has a heart to see. 

Finally, he speaks. “I have a question for you.”

Hux nods, moving to pull a chair closer and sit. “Alright, you may ask it.”

Ben sits a bit straighter, both feet on the floor and his hands in his lap. He must mean business. Usually he’s sprawled out like he owns the place, hands behind his head and feet dangling off the arm of the couch. “Alright. What drew you to the Order? Why do you believe in it so strongly?”

The question falls like a blow. Hux blinks for a moment, taken aback. “Give me a moment to consider my answer, so I can respond to your question properly?” When Ben nods he takes a breath and thinks it through.

The knee-jerk answer is to tell Solo that he never had a choice in the first place, that he was born into it. As far back as he remembers he’s been fed all the proper propaganda regarding the Order. It is powerful, it is just, it is the rightful force in the galaxy. That the Resistance and the Republic have usurped power from the true leaders. He can recall fancy dinner parties thrown by his parents, entertaining key figures in the Order. He and his sisters would always be dressed to the nines, paraded out for the guests and asked to sing the songs children were taught in school to catch them early and raise them on the glory of their Order. Afterwards their parents would dismiss them and he’d be required to get the girls tucked in for bed. He could always hear the laughter of the adults wafting up from downstairs, could remember wanting to be a part of the glittering crowd and not some child tucked out of the way.

He tries to think deeper, to look inside himself, and that’s where he finds his answer.

“The lack of chaos,” he says slowly, careful to meet Ben’s eyes. “Everything has a place, the rules are clear and enforced. There’s no room for disorder or confusion or mixed signals. When you know the expectations you can follow them.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. “Do you really think that’s the difference between the Order and the Resistance?”

Hux shrugs, moving to pour himself a tea. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Don’t change the subject. Do you really believe, deep down in your heart, that the Order cares about you as much as you care about the Order?”

“Ben.” Hux turns, giving his best “come now” gaze. “You’re talking like politics and governance have anything to do with emotion. I don’t need to search my deepest feelings to know that they don’t. Am I important? Yes. Does the Order wish to tap into my skills to benefit their cause? Of course they do. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s when you start making concessions for every little feeling that things start to fall apart. The rules need to be clear and even across the playing field.”

There’s a look on Ben’s face, a look that reminds Hux of every conversation he ever had with his father when he was alive. It’s disappointment. He shakes his head and turns away, stirring cream into his Earl Grey. “What’s that look for?”

“Because I know that somewhere, deep inside of you, you’re better than the bullshit that comes out of your mouth.”

Hux turns, scowling. “I’m sorry I don’t have some fairytale for you, Ben. The universe isn’t as romantic and idealist as you think it is. If we can’t rely on everyone being good and kind and fair then we can’t rely on _anyone_ being good or kind or fair. The only way to ensure that everyone gets the same opportunities is by making them follow the same laws.”

“You can’t tell me you really believe that everyone is getting the same fair shake from you assholes, do you?” Ben asks, sneering. “Because people out there are suffering. They’re dying. You’ve slaughtered villages trying to get to my uncle.”

Hux sips his tea. It’s still too hot, but perfectly light and just a bit sweet. “War is messy,” he says after swallowing.

Ben seems to deflate. He sags into the couch, shaking his head and staring at his hands. For some strange reason Hux feels a pang of guilt low in his stomach, though he’s got no reason to feel sorry for telling this impossible child the truth. Will there ever be a generation where a Skywalker doesn’t ruin everyone’s plans?

“Can I tell you a story?” Ben is looking up at him again, oddly vulnerable. It gives Hux pause. What sort of new trap is this?

Still. “You may.” He moves back to his chair, sitting and crossing his legs at the ankle. 

“Alright. So one of ours now, Finn, you knew him.” Ben leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and meeting Hux’s gaze dead on. “He used to be a Stormtrooper and defected because he couldn’t kill for a cause he didn’t believe in. Do you remember him?”

Hux nods. “Designation FN-2187, the traitor. I do, we had to do quite a bit of reprogramming after his defection to make sure there wasn’t any further dissention in the ranks.” It had been a nightmare, Phasma bringing the troops in for questioning one by one, weeding out the ones who couldn’t be trusted in their loyalty. It was a long week, and one he’s glad to have behind him.

“Finn, now. He has a name, not a designation.” Ben gets up, beginning to pace. He looks like a trapped animal testing the confines of his cage. “He’s a person. You know that, right? Not a machine.” He pauses in his nervous movement, rubbing his palms hard over his face. Catching his breath, regaining his calm. “He had a hard time when he came to us. He used to wake up screaming in the middle of the night, he couldn’t stop dreaming about seeing his friend shot down in front of him.” 

“I’m sorry he’s having such a hard time, Ben. Truly I am.”

Ben shoots him a Look. “Can you shut up for five minutes? You agreed to let me talk.”

Hux holds up his hands placatingly. “You’re right, I apologize.”

Returning to his seat, Ben continues. “It was heartbreaking. He had to unlearn everything he’d ever been taught, everything he’d ever known. It’s like saving someone from a cult. You have to treat them gently, keep reminding them that it’s alright if they relapse, if they just don’t know some things. You have to give them the opportunity to learn, be patient when they stumble and have to pull themselves back up. He’s not there yet, but he’s getting there.”

Hux doesn’t know where Ben is going with this. He’s wary, as if his captive might spring at any moment and attack. Like this is all a game to lure him into a false sense of security. “I wish you’d tell me the point of this story.”

Ben leans forward, gaze intense. “My point, general, is that anyone can be freed from indoctrination if you give them the chance. My point is that there’s an entire world out there that you’re missing out on, a world full of kindness and joy and yeah things are awful sometimes but at least we have the freedom to take those shitty moments and react to them however we see fit.”

For the first time in a long time Hux has to resist the urge to squirm in his seat. There’s a tight feeling in his chest, a sort of overwhelming need to breathe clear air that he isn’t going to find here on the Star Destroyer. He longs for the crisp chill of the planet below. “Are you...are you trying to _save_ me Mr. Solo?”

Ben shrugs. “Maybe I think you’re worth saving.”

He has to move. To free himself of those eyes. Shooting to his feet, Hux moves to his desk and pretends to look over some paperwork. “You’re being childish. I support this cause because I believe in it, not because I’ve been raised to know nothing else.”

Ben stands, following him over to lean on the other side of the desk. In that moment of frustration and panic Hux feels an odd sort of sensation. It’s like the your arm or leg falling asleep, but instead it’s somewhere deep in his mind. A sort of prickling static that only gets worse the more he focuses on it. He tries to ignore it, to listen to Ben’s words no matter how much he wants to storm out and go back to his own quarters to think. 

“Really? Because I think you have. I think the father that you seem so afraid of set an expectation that to ever make him proud you had to follow in his exact footsteps. I think that you hated the idea of becoming him but you didn’t know what else to be. You still don’t.” Ben steps closer, eyes glinting. He’s prowling around the desk, nearer and nearer as Hux tries to hold his ground. “I think the only reason you haven’t bolted before is because you’re afraid of what they might do to your sisters, the only people in this entire galaxy you care about.”

A burning rage flares up, and Hux has to resist the urge to strike him. “Do not. Speak of my sisters.”

Ben halts in his approach. He softens slightly, gaze now pleading instead of predatory. “We could get out of here, you know. You and me. Go get your sisters, take them back to the Resistance where they would be kept safe. Where you could be kept safe.”

“I don’t need protection,” Hux chokes, suddenly aware of a damned lump in his throat. This doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t emote, doesn’t fall back on such base a reaction as tears.

“No, you don’t,” Ben agrees. “But you do need kindness. Has anyone _ever_ been kind to you, Hux?”

There it is again, that strange sort of buzz in Hux’s mind. He grits his teeth, momentarily debating grabbing his letter opener and shoving it into Solo’s jugular. It takes three slow breaths before he’s able to speak again. “Why do you hate talking about your mother so much?” It’s more of a demand than a question.

Ben steps back, eyes flickering to the viewport. A range of emotions cross his face before he answers. “My mother...is a great woman. And she’s a good mom. I know that. But you’re right, I got lost in the shuffle as a kid. There were so many opportunities for her to take me under her wing, to make me something better, but she didn’t. She had too many duties, too many things to keep track of, I guess.” He turns, shoving his hands in his pockets as he finally puts space between them. “I feel like I was raised by nannies and droids.”

“That makes two of us.” Hux had only meant to think it, hasn’t even realized he’s said the word aloud until Ben turns with a curious look on his face.

“Yeah. Well. Long story short since I didn’t follow in her footsteps I had no choice but to follow in my father’s. And he’s...not the most reputable human being in the universe.”

Hux sinks into his chair. This conversation, it’s left him feeling weary and frayed. He wants to be done. “Ben. We’re running out of time together. Once you’re out of my reach I can’t protect you, and I guarantee that the rest of the Order won’t be as kind or as hospitable as I have. Tell me anything you can, anything, and I’ll see that we can arrange some sort of agreement or exchange of prisoners to get you out of here. But you have to give me something.” 

It’s more for his own benefit than anything. He needs Ben Solo off of his ship, he so desperately wants life to return to its usual order and clean lines and schedules. He needs to be free of this man.

Ben sits on the couch once more, shaking his head. “I’m not going to do that. Because here’s the thing, the biggest difference between you and I. My parents aren’t perfect, but I know they love me. And I love the hell out of them. And I wouldn’t sell them out for anything, not a damn thing.” He brushes his hair out of his eyes, sighing. “I wish I could get through to you somehow. I mean it, you’re better than this.”

Hux shakes his head. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.” With a sigh he hits the button on his comm. “You can come for the prisoner, take him back to the cells.” The Stormtroopers immediately enter with blasters trained on Ben, who stands and shakes his head as he makes to follow them. “Ben, wait.” 

Ben turns with wide eyes, an almost hopeful look on his face. “Yeah?”

“What happened to FN-2187? After he spent some time on your base.”

“Oh. He fell in love with one of our fighter pilots, who’s been helping him adjust to life. They’re good together. Finn’ll be okay.” 

With that the troopers take him out, the door sliding shut behind him.

-

There’s a list of reports in his datapad almost a mile long, the unfortunate byproduct of having his time taken up by Ben Solo for nearly a week now. Hux sighs and pours himself another tea as he sits down to review what’s needed. It’s all fairly standard - notes on the operations below on Starkiller, reports from Phasma on the training of their newest batch of Stormtroopers. There’s reconnaissance from the Resistance, just some chatter over where they’re looking for Ben and what they intend to do once they find him.

“General.”

Hux startles out of his calm, looking up to see Phasma standing in the doorway. “Captain?”

“Sir, Supreme Leader has requested your presence.”

It’s everything he can do to bite back a sigh. While it hasn’t been what he would call a pleasant week, it’s been nice not having to deal with the careful gaze and judgement of the Supreme Leader. Now he’s got to pull himself together _and_ try to clear all thoughts of Ben Solo from his mind in mere minutes. He nods to Phasma, standing. “Thank you, Captain. I know you’re waiting on some signatures from me, I swear I’ll have them done by this evening.”

“Thank you, sir.” Phasma salutes and returns from whence she came.

The hallways are eerily quiet and still as Hux makes his way towards the holochamber. He knows he’ll have to make a report on the current situation, he just hopes that Snoke recognizes that these things take time. He knows he’s making strides with their captive. There’s a strange sort of bond forming between them and if he can capitalize on it he can have Ben eating out of his hand and giving away any information Hux desires.

He just needs time.

Snoke is waiting for him when he enters. The Supreme Leader looms above him, a look of displeasure on his twisted face. “General.”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux says, bowing. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your audience today?”

“You have not yet extracted the information from the prisoner.”

Hux draws in a deep breath. “No, my lord, I have not. These sort of delicate extractions take time, I worry that if I-”

“Be quiet, boy.”

Hux snaps his mouth shut, carefully smoothing out the knit of his eyebrows and making a conscious effort not to scowl.

“I have given you the opportunity to oversee questioning and you have failed. The job will be turned over to those skilled in interrogation. If kindness will not loosen Ben Solo’s tongue then perhaps pain will.”

Something flips in Hux’s stomach, but he’s careful to keep his thoughts clear of anything but the Supreme Leader’s orders. “I will make the new plan known, sir.”

“No need. They’ve already been passed through the appropriate channels. Solo is being moved to a chamber now, we need to act before he gets the opportunity to rest and regain his defenses.” Snoke looks away thoughtfully. “You may be present for the proceedings, but you are not to interfere. Go.” He shoots Hux a considering look before waving his hand and disappearing.

Hux turns and leaves the chamber, heart pounding in his chest. With a soft “pffask!” under his breath he turns on his heel, running for the block that contains the interrogation cells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did that thing! I asked someone to beta-read for me! Big big big thank you to ocktorok who is a gem and delightful and an A+ human being.
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](http://that-vicious-vixen.tumblr.com)!


	4. Chapter 4

Hux stands outside of the chamber door for a considerable length of time, grinding his teeth together as he mentally prepares to walk inside. Everything has been turned over on its head. Everything he’s worked for is being pried from his fingers. He was getting so close. He’d almost developed a camaraderie with Ben, and the information he needed was almost within his grasp. And now it’s all being ripped away.

Beyond that, he isn’t sure he believes that Ben deserves what’s coming to him. He’s not a ranking officer in the Resistance and he’s hardly ever done more than cause some trouble here or there. He’s never foiled any large plans, never played a part in battles and skirmishes. He just...is. He’s a figurehead, the shining son of their fearless general. Hux can hardly blame him for what he was born into.

With a sigh he taps in his keycode and steps inside.

“General. How nice of you to join us.” The words comes from behind a voice modulator, the calling card of those abominable Knights of Ren that Snoke keeps at his beck and call. Ever since they were thrust upon his ship Hux has had little patience for the group, with their swirling black cloaks and their holier-than-thou attitudes. He’s avoided them as much as possible, keeping their interactions to the barest minimum while still appeasing Snoke with their partnership. This one, Kiva, tends to be the most vicious of the entire lot. He sweeps around like some great black bird, acting as the self-appointed leader of the Knights and doing his absolute best to be underfoot as Hux tries to keep things running smoothly.

Now, seeing him loom over Ben Solo, Hux doesn’t just hate him. He wants him dead. Hux carefully tucks the thought somewhere deep in his mind, It would cost him dearly in the long run. “Lord Kiva,” he says with a polite nod. “Snoke wishes for me to be present for questioning, though I defer all decision-making to you.” That should make the strange masked man happy. Hux is so rarely deferential. 

 

He looks over at Ben and his heart jumps into his throat.

The rebel is surprisingly bloody for the short period of time he’s been out of Hux’s sight. A deep cut bisects his bottom lip into two even halves, blood dribbling down his chin to soak the front of his shirt. A deep purple bruise blooms high on his cheek under eyes burning with resentment. On top of the physical pain is the indignity of being restrained, Ben’s tall, lean body bolted down to the metal chair in the center of the room. 

“Mr. Solo,” Hux says by way of a greeting, attempting to stay calm. “Did I not warn you that it might come to this?” 

Ben slowly lifts his head, focusing his eyes on Hux. One is nearly swollen shut, the other tinged pink from broken blood vessels. He has the audacity to look betrayed. As if Hux had made some impossible promise to protect him from pain and torture and he’s shocked to have ended up here. 

“I warned you,” Hux reminds him again. He hopes Ben understands his own frustration, his disappointment that his warnings weren’t taken seriously. “I explained to you that there was only so long before Supreme Leader would weary of your stubborn refusal to talk. Did you listen? Of course not.”

Ben gives a wet-sounding cough before laughing harshly. “Yeah, thanks for the recap. It’s been a long hard hour since we last spoke, what would I do without you to remind me?” He’s silenced as Kiva backhands him, blood arching from his lip and spattering against the floor. Hux feels the sudden need to surge forward, to put himself between Ben and the masked figure, but he manages to stop himself from doing anything so foolish. While Kiva seems to miss his near indiscretion, Ben’s eyes flicker over to him.

“You can stop this,” he says softly. “This is wrong and you know it.” Another swift blow from a gloved hand. Ben draws his lips back, his uneven white teeth stained a sickly pink.

Hux feels trapped, like a butterfly pinned to a board. His eyes are wide as he gives a barely perceptible shake of his head. “I can’t. It’s out of my control now, Ben.” He wants to leave, wants to hide in his office until this is all over, but a firm voice in the back of his mind tells him he must stay. He swore his methods would work and they didn’t. This is his punishment for failure. 

As he speaks Ben’s body sags with the realization that his desperate attempt to get through the Hux didn’t work. It stirs that sick feeling in Hux again, watching Ben’s head fall forward, his hair fall into his eyes. Watching the light inside of him go dim.

Hux balls his gloved hands into fists. This isn’t who he is, this simpering child afraid of blood and pain. He’s above all this. With a steadying breath he sets his jaw and readies himself for the proceedings.

The knight moves to the center of the room, standing before Ben’s already beaten body. When he speaks Hux can hear the smile behind his mask. “Shall we begin?” So much delight in three simple words. He’s anticipating this. Relishing in it. Kiva circles Ben slowly, looking for all the world like some cliche villain in one of the holodramas his mother used to watch. He gives his prisoner a thorough looking-over as if checking for flaws in his armor. “Here’s how this is going to work. For every question I ask that you choose not to answer I’m going to take something from your mind. A childhood memory, a simple pleasure...whatever it is, I guarantee it’s something that you’ll miss. The more you resist the more I’ll take away. Soon it’ll all be gone, and you’ll be left only with pain, and rage, and regret. Understand?”

Ben manages a shrug. “Sounds pretty clear.”

“Good,” Kiva says. “Then let’s get right down to it. Where is the Resistance base?”

Ben sighs and shakes his head as if already bored with the questioning. “You’re so confident I’ll break. You underestimate me.”

“Anything but.” Kiva’s voice is so dangerously soft that Hux’s own mouth goes dry. “I believe that _you_ underestimate the power of the dark side.”

Reaching up with his left hand, he tugs the fingers of the glove covering his right, pulling the leather away and tucking it into his pocket. Hux has never seen the man underneath the mask. This small glimpse of his skin is the only hint of what Kiva might look like under the robes. With cold intent the hand lifts, fingertips stopping inches away from Ben’s face. 

“Last chance,” Kiva whispers.

Ben lifts his head and spits a mouthful of blood across his mask.

The shift in the room is immediate. Hux can feel the energy in the air fizzle and pop, coating him in a sticky sort of heat that prickles under the collar of his uniform. In the metal chair Ben tenses, the muscles in his face going tense as he’s drawn towards Kiva’s hand. It’s excruciating to watch. Even without a full understanding of what is happening before him Hux can see the agony on Ben’s face, the way he squirms and tries to fight off the intrusion in his mind.

“Just let me in,” Kiva murmurs, all of his focus narrowed down to one point. “Relax, Ben. You’ve been strong for so long, just give in.”

In Kiva’s calm words he can hear his own voice speaking to Ben throughout the week past. He can hear himself being cordial and polite, giving pieces of kindness away in hopes that his prisoner would warm to him, would turn into something soft and malleable in his hands. His heart beats in his throat - he can barely breathe. This is wrong. He doesn’t know why, and the thought panics him, but somehow he knows that this shouldn’t be.

Ben holds. Despite the redness spreading from his cheeks down to his neck and the vein throbbing in his temple, he holds. It would be admirable if his discomfort weren’t so clear, his pain and frustration over his position written on every line of his face. He grits his teeth, pulling his lips back into a grimace. “F-fuck...fuck you.”

Kiva drops his hand. The room is silent and still, Hux practically holds his breath as he waits for either to move. Finally the knight draws back, gaining momentum before swinging forward and delivering a sharp blow to the center of Ben’s chest. The bound man groans, the restraints preventing him from curling in on himself. For a moment he struggles for air, heaving in great, gasping breaths. Kiva fists his hair and yanks his head back.

“Who trained you?” he hisses, wrenching Ben’s head to the side. “Why can’t I see inside?”

Ben cries out, eyes shut tight as the rough handling jostles his myriad of wounds. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Another hard punch, this time delivered low on Ben’s stomach. “You’re lying.” When Kiva goes back in for another attempt he grabs Ben’s head roughly, skull grasped between his hands. He leans in close and pours all of his concentration into the man within his grip.

A low sort of moan fills the room, and Hux realizes too late that it’s coming from his own throat. Ben is only capable of a pathetic sort of whimper as he does his best to fight back. After a brief struggle he’s released once more, body going limp against his restraints.

“Fine,” Kiva grates out, pulling his glove from his pocket and yanking it back on. “Fine. If that isn’t going to work then we’ll do this the old fashioned way.”

Hux looks up sharply. “What are you going to do?”

The expressionless face of the mask turns in his direction, and Hux can feel the intensity with which Kiva studies him. “I’m going to hurt him, General. Excuse me for a moment, there’s something I need.” Kiva turns away, opening the door with a wave of his hand and disappearing into the hall.

“Hux…”

Hux turns, heart pounding in his chest as he walks over to Ben. “Just tell him what he wants to know, you fool,” he chokes, hands clenched at his sides. “He _wants_ to kill you, Ben. He’ll revel in the opportunity to cause you pain, and once you’re all used up he’ll finish you off and throw your body into an incinerator as if you were never anything at all. Just tell him...something. Tell him anything! Give him the smallest piece of information and this can end.”

Ben shakes his head, a move so small that Hux almost misses it.

“Nothing is this important!” he shouts. Without realizing it he’s lifted his hands to cup Ben’s face, trying to meet his eyes. “Not you, not me. The Resistance, the Order, none of it. To you they’re a cause worth dying for, but to them you’re just a footnote in a history book. We’ll all be forgotten. How can you not understand that?” His chest is heaving with each panicked breath, his frenzy sticking to his skin like a black tar that won’t wipe clean. “You’ve got to save yourself, no one else is going to do it for you!”

Of all the responses Hux might have expected, laughter is the lowest on his list. He watches in horror as Ben begins to chuckle, a sound that soon turns to a wheezing laugh that contracts his aching ribcage and punches the breath from his lungs. The prisoner lifts his eyes to look at Hux as if he’s seeing him for the first time. “You’re incredible. You know that, right?”

Hux draws back as if he’s been struck. “What?”

Ben’s crooked grin is free of pretense, free of any indicator that he’s being sarcastic or aiming to wound. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve gone so long thinking you’re unimportant. I wish I had time to prove you wrong.”

They’re running out of time. “Please Ben-”

“How about a kiss before he comes back? One before I go.”

It’s like having ice cold water poured straight into his brain. Hux looks at Ben with wide eyes, lips falling apart in a soft gasp. “What?”

Ben’s expression is surprisingly soft for a man facing his own death. “You and I both know that I’m not leaving this room alive. Give me something good to think about while he rips me apart.”

For the first time since his childhood, Hux thinks he might cry. His emotions war within him and he can’t help but resent Ben for it. Ben Solo, with his crooked teeth and sweet smile and honest eyes. Ben Solo who refuses to sell his family out even at the cost of his own life. Ben Solo who won’t break. Maybe the least he can do is kiss him goodbye, for both of them.

“Don’t get blood on my uniform,” he says weakly. His entire body feels transparent, like he’s merely dreaming it and there’s nothing holding all of his thoughts in place. He steps forward and leans in, careful of Ben’s bloody lip as he gently presses their mouths together.

It tastes like copper. Hux thinks he might never kiss anyone else ever again.

He manages to keep it brief, just a lingering press of lips before he steps away. Ben is grinning again, a dazed sort of look that makes Hux want to slap him and remind him of what’s coming. He manages to restrain himself, carefully wiping the back of one gloved hand across his lips to make sure no blood has been left behind.

“You know,” Ben says wearily, “maybe in a different universe we could have been something, you and me.”

Hux scoffs. “Not on your life. That was a pity kiss, you’re still an incredible pain in my ass.”

Before Ben can respond the door slides open and Kiva steps back in. The knight seems to loom even larger than before, presence filling the entire room as he moves to Hux. The general stands straight and meets his gaze head-on. 

“General Hux,” he says, voice a hiss behind the modulator. “Supreme Leader has requested your presence once more.”

Twice in one day. Delightful. Beyond the vague irritation at having to see Snoke again is his dread at leaving Ben alone with Kiva. He resists the urge to wipe at his mouth again, to make sure that no remnants of his traitorous behavior are left behind. “Thank you, Lord Kiva. Try not to have too much fun until I return.” Kiva laughs, and Hux walks out before he can act on his urge to strike him.

As Hux walks he thinks of his days as a teenager. He thinks of all the lies he ever told his mother and father, how he had to stand before them stone-faced and deny every accusation to escape punishment. He became quite good at molding his features into ones that covered his guilt, a skill he’s grateful for as he walks to the holochamber. He has to make sure he gives Snoke no reason to doubt, no reason to push into his mind and see everything within him right now. While he would never be so foolish as to throw his life away for one idiot Rebel, he doubts Snoke would give him the chance to say as much.

He takes a deep breath, clears his mind, and steps inside. As usual Snoke hovers above him, but this time there’s a worrying look of amusement on his face as he regards the man standing before him.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux says, nodding his head politely. “How may I serve you?”

A deep chuckle rumbles around the chamber. “General Hux. I wish to know how the interrogation is going. How does Lord Kiva fair with the prisoner?”

Hux sees his chance. He grasps at it. “Ineffective my Lord. We must admit what we’re up against; Ben Solo is simply too physically strong to succumb to pain, to break as we need him to. Beyond that his loyalties to the Resistance are deeply ingrained within him. I feel the only thing that will truly break him is reprogramming, playing to his emotions and shifting the focus from the power of the Order to the purpose.”

“So Lord Kiva has been unsuccessful in his attempt.”

“He is a skilled knight, my Lord,” Hux says carefully. “An asset to the Order. But in this specific case his efforts prove fruitless.”

Snoke lifts an eyebrow, mangled face thoughtful. “So the prisoner will not break.”

“No sir,” Hux says firmly. Something like hope flairs in his chest. It seems like Snoke is actively listening, taking his feedback into consideration. “It is my opinion that under these circumstances the prisoner will not break.”

Snoke nods, sitting back in his chair. “Very well. Kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow is my cousin-brother's birthday so I'll be fairly busy all day, have an early chapter!
> 
> Thanks again to Ocktorok for beta-ing for me <3


	5. Chapter 5

All Hux can hear is the sound of his own heartbeat as he walks quickly through the corridors, trying with all of his might to maintain an air of calm and control. Everything he’s ever trained for was to prepare him for this moment. He can feel it now. All of those years in the Academy learning to stay calm under pressure, to think on his feet and make quick decisions. The careful training of his emotions so that he’d never give anything away with an arched eyebrow or tense jaw. The years he spent lying to his father, to himself. It’s all led to this moment.

He walks into the interrogation chamber, careful not to look at the broken body of Ben Solo bolted to the chair. He looks instead at the faceless Lord Kiva, bowing his head politely. “Leader Snoke requests your person in his chamber, my Lord.” He’s careful to be polite without overdoing it, wanting to play to the man’s ego without triggering his suspicion. “He has further orders pertaining to the prisoner.”

The knight glances back at Solo before nodding. “Very well. I suppose you can at least watch this fool until I return?”

“I suppose I can, yes,” Hux says dryly, trying very hard not to comment on the slight. Now is not the time to pick fights in defense of his pride. He practically holds his breath as he watches him leave the room, the door sliding shut with a hiss that seems so loud to his heightened senses. He closes his eyes and counts to fifteen.

As soon as he’s done he turns sharply, walking over to Ben and leaning in close. “Listen to me. I’m going to release you from the chair. I need you to swear to me you won’t A, attack me, or B, die. Can you do that?”

Ben slowly lifts his head, eyes hazy as he regards the man before him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ben, I need you to listen carefully. Snoke has ordered your execution. We have a very short window to get you off of this ship. If I release you, do you swear to do whatever I tell you until we’re free of this place?”

Dark eyes lift to study his face, searching for some sign that Hux is telling the truth. He must find it, because he gives a small nod and watches quietly as Hux leans down to release the cuffs holding him to the chair. He stumbles to his feet, wincing as Hux catches him and helps to support his weight. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?” he asks, having a hard time forming the words around the split in his swollen lip. Gone is the Ben Solo from less than a day ago, the Ben Solo willing to flirt and charm and sell his own soul to save Hux’s. Hux supposes he should see that as a victory, instead it feels like a blow.

Hux grabs him by the shoulders, hoping Ben finds whatever truth he saw just moments ago in his eyes. “Listen to me, Ben. Despite being your interrogator, have I lied to you yet? Have I not treated you with every kindness I could afford to offer you?” He swallows hard. “Have I not told you things about myself that I wouldn’t dare tell another person?”

There’s a long moment of silence where their eyes lock together and not a word is spoken. Finally, Ben nods.

Hux releases the breath he’d been holding. “Then I need you to trust that nothing has changed.” As an afterthought he removes the blaster holstered to his hip, pressing it into Ben’s hand. “And if I betray you then you can kill me yourself.”

Ben stares down at the blaster with wide eyes. When he looks back up it’s with a grin that somehow manages to shine through all the blood caked onto his face. “Let’s go.”

Steadying his nerves, Hux quickly works out the plan in his head. “If I get you to a ship, can you fly it?”

“I can fly anything,” Ben affirms, his egotism returning as if nothing had ever changed. “How are we going to do this?”

Hux swallows hard. “It’s easy. You’re a prisoner, and I’m transporting you. That should get us at least to the docking bay. Once we’re there it may be a bit of a fight, but if we can keep our heads low and try not to be too ostentatious then we might get lucky.” The plan is horrible. The odds certainly aren’t in their favor. It’s all Hux has got.

Ben seems to realize it. He grabs the blaster, handing it back to Hux. “You keep this. You might need it.”

“But what if _you_ need it?”

Ben shoots him that cocky grin, the one that’s tormented Hux’s nights for the past week. “I can handle myself, don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry” is the sort of thing people say precisely when you should be worrying. Hux manages to keep that thought to himself as he fingers the trigger on the standard-issue First Order pistol, drawing another slow breath before nodding to Ben. “Let’s go.”

As they leave the interrogation chamber Hux is careful to plot out their route in his head. He can’t risk running into Kiva and blowing their cover before they even get to the docking bay, but taking the back way will rob them of precious seconds they’ll need in their escape. Still, it’s his best chance. Running and fighting off some useless Stormtroopers is better than taking on a well-trained Force user. Once he’s thoroughly weighed his options he turns left, making sure to keep Ben a few paces ahead so as not to draw suspicion.

Every step they take seems thunderously loud to his ears, every drawn breath shakes the very foundation of The Finalizer and threatens to draw undue attention to them. He begins to hold his breath as they walk.

“First group of troopers coming up on our left,” Ben whispers. As if Hux needs to be told. He knows every patrol on duty right now, every soldier in his or her stiff white armor coming and going on the ship. He knows exactly what they’re going to run into on their way to freedom.

“Stop talking,” Hux grits out. “Shut up and look more...doomed.” As they move closer to the patrol he grits his teeth and tries to look appropriately put-upon. A few helmets just barely turn their way but thankfully the fear of dropping form and drawing Hux’s ire is strong enough that no one takes too close of a look. Soon they’ve passed and the sound of precise marching grows softer until it’s faded completely.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ben murmurs once they’re out of range and safe enough for the moment.

Hux’s heart is hammering in his chest as he tries to keep his wits about him. “I suppose you’re going to anyway.”

“Yep. Why are you doing this?” Ben asks the question like he’s been holding it in for too long, like it’s been burning a hole in his tongue and he’s been waiting to spit it out. It falls as Hux’s feet and threatens to burn him alive.

“Allow me a moment to think of a good excuse to not answer,” Hux murmurs, grabbing Ben firmly by the arm as they reach a fork in the corridor. He’s careful to study both paths before picking the one to the right and dragging Ben along.

Ben sighs. “Look. I almost died today. Who knows, I still might. You’ve been playing a long con, so sure you could break me down, and now you’re saving me. I think I have the right to know why I should trust you.”

It makes perfect sense for Ben to question his motivations. His life is on the line, his freedom, so he has every right to ask Hux what the hell is going on in his mind. That doesn’t make Hux any more eager to answer, though. Still, he’s not a man to run and hide, so answer he must.

“Because I trust my judgement above all others’,” he says, lips barely moving as he speaks. “I may follow orders, but I only follow them when I think they make sense. And killing you...you’re harmless. You’re just a silly boy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got caught up in something much bigger than him. I don’t think you deserve to die.”

Ben stops, leveling Hux with his gaze. “And you’re willing to give up your entire life for that?”

Hux lets out a slow breath through his nose. “Apparently I am.”

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense. You know that, right?”

There are more footsteps approaching. This time is sounds like one solitary pair, and the steps are rushed and heavy. “Do you want me to stand here explaining my thought process from the first moment I saw you?” he hisses, eyes flashing. “Or shall we keep going and we can talk more about this when we’re not in mortal danger?”

Ben’s gaze moves to the source of the sound. “Yeah uh, later. Later is good.” Matter dropped, both men take off down the hallway. They’re running out of time. The longer it takes them to get out of there the longer Kiva has to catch up, and Hux is sure that by now he’s well aware of their hasty escape. They go past another squadron, but this time Hux doesn’t pay them any mind as he focuses on getting to a ship that will get them somewhere safe.

_General_

Hux stops, blood going ice cold.

_Bring me my prisoner, General. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be._

Ben looks over with concern. “Hux?”

“He’s in my head,” Hux whispers, eyes wide. “He knows.”

_Of course I know. And you know this won’t end in you and your boyfriend flying off into the sunset together. Bring him back. This will be our little secret._

He wishes he could consider it, that it might seem even a little bit attractive to surrender Ben to the knight and to save his own skin. But he knows deep down that he can’t, and he won’t, and that they’ve got to keep moving.

“Our cover is blown,” he chokes. “Come on.” This time when he grabs Ben they take off at a run, flying through the halls in their desperation to get out. Ben is, unsurprisingly, quite fast; Hux notices a few times that he slows his pace so that Hux can keep up, his own body so unused to field combat and more trained for standing on a bridge for hours issuing orders. 

They take a left and run head-first into Phasma and a squadron of troopers at her back.

“General,” she says, voice smooth behind her mask. “Return the prisoner.”

Hux knows there’s no point in trying to con her. The Captain is whip-smart and always a few steps ahead of her peers, if she knows of his treason then there’s nothing for it but to fight their way out. He raises his pistol-

-and Ben raises his hand. With a flick of his wrist the entire squadron flies back and a door seals off to separate them.

Hux turns, stunned. “You-”

“Yeah, me,” Ben mutters. “Come on.” This time he’s the one to grab Hux, dragging him along. 

“You lied to me,” Hux gasps, staring with wide-eyes at Ben as he tries to keep up. “You said-”

“I said I’m not a Jedi,” Ben snaps. “I didn’t say I _couldn’t_ wield the Force, just that I don’t.”

Hux has a few choice words for the brat but he’s too busy running for his life to spit them out. He can hear the squadron gaining ground behind them, catching up far quicker than he’d expected. What’s more, he can feel the solid presence of Kiva in the back of his mind, trying to bend his will and convince him to kill Ben himself. To shoot him in the back just as he’s beginning to trust Hux’s intentions. He sends the bastard a few pointed thoughts of his own as they continue to run. 

“We’re near the hangars,” he pants, chest burning with every breath. “It’s going to be swarming with troopers.”

“Luckily they’re all terrible shots,” Ben pants back.

Hux wishes he had the time to shoot Ben a proper Look. “That may be so, but there will be enough of them that it won’t really matter. So if you’d be so kind as to use your convenient space magic I’d be much obliged.” For a moment it seems that Ben is working on a cutting retort, but he stays blessedly silent.

As they approach the bay everything is oddly quiet. Hux can already feel every blaster and cannon trained on them, poised and ready to fire. For a brief moment he thinks of his sisters, of his mother back in the dreary gray planes of Arkanis. He and Ben spare each other a quick glance and burst through the doors.

It’s strange, the way everything seems to slow down when death is a possibility. Hux can feel his pounding heart, can hear the rush of blood in his ears, but somehow everything has gone still before his eyes. He realizes after the fact that his blaster is drawn, can see troopers falling under his impeccable aim. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ben to pick up a weapon dropped by one of his victims and turn it on the advancing unit, picking a few off with deadly accuracy. 

Ben is almost beautiful in his fury. The blood on his face makes him look like some avenging angel, his hair falling to brush the line of bruises along his jaw. Hux wants to reach over and sweep the errant strands out of his eyes. Before he can consider the thought a blaster fires, the bolt hitting him squarely in his left shoulder.

Hux is no stranger to pain. You don’t become General without some bumps and bruises along the way, and despite all thoughts to the contrary he’s not some uptight primadonna who sits in his office too afraid to get his hands dirty. Still, the shot is enough to knock the air from his lungs as he falls to his knees. He brings his right hand up to clutch at the wound, sucking in a frenzied breath as he feels slick blood against his fingertips.

A large hand grips him by the collar of his shirt and drags him to his feet. He suddenly finds himself tossed over a strong shoulder as Ben flicks his hand and sends the troopers blocking their path into a nearby console. 

“I can walk, you know,” Hux chokes, not entirely certain of the fact. Ben’s only reply is a snort of disbelief as he runs for a nearby TIE Fighter.

Hux is about to explain the locking mechanism when unimaginable pain seems to split his mind in two. It’s like a hot knife sliding into his frontal lobe, snatching every thought and replacing it with searing agony. He goes rigid in Ben’s grasp, crying out, eyes rolling up in his head. He’s able to just barely make out the looming figure of Kiva behind them, hand outstretched and balled into a tight fist.

“B-Ben...” He’s barely able to choke out the word. The pain is making his stomach turn, and for one strange moment he’s worried about vomiting on the floor and embarrassing himself in front of everyone gathered around them. Before he has the chance he’s set on his feet, the world righting itself before his eyes. 

Ben steps in front of him, blaster trained on Kiva as he walks them slowly back towards the ship. “Get out of his head.” Ah yes, that’s what it is. Through the pain Hux can feel his thoughts shifting around, something akin to hands shuffling cards and laying them out on a table. He sees a younger version of himself at the Academy, back straight and chin lifted in pride and defiance as his father barks out orders and insults. He sees Ben strapped to the metal chair, a look of strange relief on his face as Hux kisses him. He sees his sisters as young children, crawling into his bed during a particularly frightening thunderstorm in search of comfort. It all passes through his mind like a strange slideshow, memory after memory put on display. 

He gasps, lips parted as the memories continue to flicker past. “N-no, get out…” He needs it to end, to protect the precious few happy thoughts he has from the intrusion. He needs Ben’s sturdy hands supporting his weight, keeping him on his feet before he can be uprooted once more. 

There’s a flash of movement to his right and a sharp cry, the presence suddenly withdrawing from his mind as if burned or bitten. When the pain recedes he’s able to make out the strange scene before him. Kiva is kneeling, head clutched in his hands, bleeding profusely from a cut above his eye. Ben’s blaster lays close by.

Hux looks over, trembling. “You...threw your gun at him?”

Ben shrugs, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him to the ship. “He didn’t expect it. Works better that way.” Before Hux can worry if he has the strength to climb inside Ben lifts him up, depositing him into the gunner’s seat and climbing into the pilot’s.

“There’s a locking mechanism,” Hux chokes, heart pounding in his throat. “The ship is tethered to the dock.”

“I know that. You think I don’t know that?” Ben snaps, the pressure of their grand escape testing his usual smooth patience. “Any idiot would know to disengage it before trying to fly off.”

Hux feels heavy, like the weight of his head is too much to hold up without help. He removes his hand from his shoulder, brows drawing together and lips pressing into a thin line as as his blood makes an absolutely mess of his skin and uniform. “Well that won’t do,” he mutters, pursing his lips. He can hear an engine purring to life, the sporadic noise of blaster bolts hitting the hull of the TIE Fighter. Ben is breathing harsh and heavy behind him, and Hux thinks dazedly of their kiss.

The ship turns a neat rotation, facing Hux towards the mass of Stormtroopers trying to stop their escape. As they lurch away and the bay grows smaller and smaller, he thinks they look like swirling snow on the face of a planet - his planet, his beautiful Starkiller Base that, until last week, was his only priority. Now his biggest worry and greatest fear is the jackass sitting behind him, currently tasked with saving their lives.

“Hux?” Said jackass calls his name, and Hux can hear him shifting around in an attempt to look back at him. “Hux, are you alright?”

Hux smiles, biting his lip as he watches The Finalizer fade away. More ships will launch soon, coming hard and fast to try and stop their escape. He laughs softly, closing his eyes. “No, I don’t think I am.”

His vision goes black, and he sleeps.

-

He dreams of his family. They’re back at home on Arkanis, gathered for some arbitrary holiday that they celebrate simply to keep up appearances. It’s the only reason they ever celebrated anything, really. So others would see them as normal, an exemplary family leading exemplary lives. His parents are showing little interest in the children, but Hux and his sisters are sitting in front of a large fireplace grinning and exchanging small trinkets and gifts.

The twins sit, as they always do, in exactly the same position. They’ve been dressed in matching outfits, amber-red hair curled and free of their usual buns and braids. They’re sitting on their feet with the skirts of their cream-colored dresses spread out around them, as pretty as little dolls as they cup their freckled hands and close their eyes. Hux grins, reaching forward to drop a necklace into each set of waiting hands.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

-

“Open your eyes. Come on, Hux, open them. Is he going to be alright?”

Hux’s head pounds like heavy boots on polished floors. His stomach is turning, but the idea of sitting up to be sick is too much to fathom. Instead he tries to lay as still as possible, willing himself to go back to sleep.

“He’ll be fine. That crash landing of yours didn’t help his wounds much, but we’ve got excellent healers.”

“...mother. I’m not exactly used to flying TIE Fighters.”

There’s a small noise of displeasure, one that sounds very much like his own when things haven’t gone just as he planned. Hux feels a hand stroking through his hair, fingers gently separating tangled strands and working them apart before massaging over his scalp. It feels good. For a strange moment he thinks he’s at home in bed as a child, small and sick, with his mother soothing away his pains. But the hand is too large, the voice too deep. Also, his mother is dead.

“What are you going to do with him?”

“I’m not sure yet, Ben. We have to treat him as a war criminal, and being such I can’t make any rash decisions.”

“He saved my life!”

“After having held you prisoner in the first place.”

“Leia-”

“Benjamin. We’ll discuss this later.”

Reality comes crashing around him in dizzying waves. Hux remembers all of it - the escape, the wound in his shoulder, Kiva taking his memories like he had some sort of right. He remembers the look on Ben’s face as he realized that yes, Hux was really going to break him out of his prison and save his life. It hits him hard. He’s given up _everything_.

The nausea won’t be contained any longer. He forces himself up, ignoring Ben’s gasp as he leans to the side just in time to be sick over the floor. He trembles as his body attempts to turn itself inside-out, soothed only by a large hand stroking over his back and reaching forward to sweep his hair of out his face.

When he’s done he opens his eyes, spotting a pair of small brown boots just out of reach of the contents of his stomach. He lets his eyes move up to thin legs, past sensible clothing and various medals and insignia, into the face of General Leia Organa.

Hux heaves a sigh, drawing the back of his hand over his mouth. “Oh, hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow PixiePunch did an [AMAZING COMIC](https://pixiepunch.tumblr.com/post/143205506772/a-speed-comic-based-on-chapter-4) of last chapter's kiss!


	6. Chapter 6

Hux spends his first week with the Resistance recovering in the medbay. Between the blaster bolt he took to the shoulder and Ben’s crash landing on D’Qar he’s a mess of bumps and bruises and lacerations. Beyond that his anxiety is so overwhelming that he can barely eat or sleep without drugs to help calm him. All he can do it lie in the simple bed he’s been assigned to, trying to ignore how people gawk at him as they pass by. He hears his name whispered often in hushed voices, hears people vying to be put on night shift so they can get a closer look while he’s sleeping. He feels like an animal in a zoo.

Every available opportunity finds Ben seated as his bedside. He’s eerily quiet though, so different from the mouthy bastard who only days before had faced his own death with a smirk and a bold request for a parting kiss. It’s like he doesn’t know what to say to Hux now that he has him here. Now that Hux has given up everything to save his life.

Hux tires of it quickly.

“A few days ago I couldn’t get you to shut up,” he murmurs, voice hoarse from how often he’s been sick. “Now you’re going to leave me to my own devices in the clutches of the loathsome Resistance?”

Ben looks up quickly, making sure Hux is joking. When he sees Hux trying desperately to hide a smile he relaxes, grinning and shaking his head. “Well. Maybe I just ran out of things to say?”

Hux snorts, tugging the blanket up over his shoulders. It’s somehow colder here than it is on Starkiller, and that planet was covered in snow. “I somehow doubt that’s possible.” He looks at the tray of food Ben set down on the bedside table, scrunching up his nose. “I suppose I’m meant to eat that?” Meals have been a losing battle, he’s only been able to hold down the thinnest broths that the attendants have supplied to him. What’s more, he’s not entirely sure he’ll make it out of the room un-poisoned. It’s doubtful that the Resistance is going to have much sympathy for the likes of him.

Grabbing the tray, Ben scoots closer to help him. It’s a bowl of a bland looking porridge, but it’s so much like home that his stomach gurgles at the mere sight. “I thought this might be easier,” Ben says, shrugging as he helps Hux get settled. “Your stomach is probably unused to what we eat here. We should start slow.”

The first bite is a relief, taking the sharp edge off of his hunger. He waits a minute to make sure it’s going to stay down, looking up at Ben. “So. What’s going to happen to me?”

Ben sinks into his chair with a sigh, slouching down and letting his long, awkward legs fall apart. “Good question. They won’t let me in on any of the discussions since they think I won’t be objective. I sat down with Statura and told him my side of the events. Once you’re well enough you’ll be sitting down with the General. I guess they’re going to see how well our stories match up.” He looks up at Hux sheepishly. “Until then you’re not allowed to leave the medbay. They’ve stationed a guard.”

Hux shrugs, taking another small bite and swallowing thoughtfully. “It makes sense. I’m as good as a war criminal, they can’t have me sneaking around to gather information and compromising equipment.”

“But you helped me escape!” Ben argues, sitting up straighter in his chair.

Hux tries to stay patient, as if explaining the concept to a child. “Yes, after holding you prisoner. If I were to turn on you here, lure you into a false sense of security, it would be the perfect opportunity to send a message. It’s just a necessary precaution, Ben. They’re doing what they must.”

Ben eyes him warily. “You’re being very forgiving.”

It’s true, to outside ears this would seem like quite the departure from his usual iron will and acerbic tongue. He shrugs. “I’m tired. I’m scared. I’ve given everything up to save someone I don’t know. I guess I’m just out of fight.”

Worse than any blaster bolt is the pity in Ben’s eyes as he regards Hux. It makes his stomach turn, he wants to avert his gaze to avoid the honest emotion directed at him. He can handle most things - war, violence, death. What he can’t handle is someone looking right through the heart of him and seeing the things he tries to hide from even himself. 

“Ben,” he says softly, holding his ground. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m some lost lamb headed for a slaughter that you can’t save.” He sighs, turning back to his bland meal. He manages a few bites before it becomes too much and he sets it down on the side table. “I’ve made my decisions in life. I decided to follow in my father’s footsteps, to fight for power within the order and assume command when it was offered to me. I chose to interrogate you, and when the time came I chose to help you escape. It’s a series of events, choices made, nothing more.”

Hux stiffens as Ben’s hand reaches over to take his own. “It’s more than that and you know it,” Ben says firmly, eyes so intense that Hux has to look away. “It’s bigger than that and I won’t let you minimize what you’ve done for me.”

Hux pulls his hand away under the pretense of adjusting his blanket. “I appreciate the sentiment, Ben. I really do. But sentiment doesn’t get you far in a war.” It certainly hasn’t gotten him far. The very idea of it has been carefully stamped out of him since childhood, through the callousness of his parents. The first time he’s ever let true, genuine emotion into his life, and he’s ended up here.

“Yeah well, sentiment got me off of The Finalizer,” Ben says softly. Hux tries very hard to pretend he didn’t hear. 

Another two days pass before he’s able to hold down a proper meal of porridge and weak tea. On his final day of convalescence Ben doesn’t show up for his normal morning conversation, so Hux has a strong idea that he’s going to be sent for.

His theory is confirmed when a severe looking man has a brief discussion with the guard before stepping in. He wears a strange green-brown sort of uniform with a thick brown leather belt, the insignia on his jacket designating him as an admiral. His salt and pepper hair is cut short, and he wears neatly groomed facial hair that Hux would never allow under his own command. The man makes no attempt to hide his disdain as he looks down at him.

“Hux.”

Hux isn’t surprised by the omission of his rank. He doesn’t expect his military prowess to earn him any respect here. “Admiral Statura, I presume?”

The man nods, standing at proper parade rest. He fixes an icy stare on Hux as he addresses him. “Yes. I’m charged with bringing you to the General. Are you able to walk?”

“I am. Eating and sleeping have been my only real issues,” Hux affirms, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to sit up. He holds his hands out expectantly, frowning when Statura looks at him like he’s insane. “Cuffs?”

Statura gives a small, joyless laugh, folding his arms. “Unnecessary, though it would make me happy to see you in them. Bringing Ben Solo back from the clutches of the Order has earned you just enough sympathy to be treated as a guest rather than a prisoner. Though that might very well change once General Organa is done with you though, so I wouldn’t get too comfortable.”

It’s Hux’s turn to look at him like he’s lost his mind. He almost protests, almost reminds the man that he’s still a war criminal and that they don’t yet know that he isn’t there to betray them in a grand way. It’s hard to hold his tongue but he manages; it’s not like he _wants_ to be bound and dragged through the Resistance base in chains. While he has no idea what his future will hold he does know that betraying the Order - Ben - isn’t in the cards. With a small shrug he stands, smoothing out his clothing as best he can. It’s not what he’d choose to meet a General in - he’s in simple cotton pants and an oversized sweater Ben managed to procure from him when he mentioned being cold. Hux suspects it might belong to Ben himself. He didn’t ask.

“Well, lead the way I suppose.”

Statura nods, motioning for Hux to walk out first. He seems to have no qualm with letting his prisoner wander beside him with no security, no weapon trained on him to make sure he doesn’t attack. Hux wonders if they already suspect his unwise attachment to Ben. Or maybe Statura could kill him with one arm tied behind his back, he has the grimace of a man with no time for nonsense. Either way, it’s both a relief and a burden to be thus unhindered as they move through the base. He almost feels naked without any cuffs or bindings. Too free. He’s not used to it.

Even in the Order, with an army at his disposal, he was never free.

The passages they take are blessedly quiet, no curious eyes to follow him as he walks towards his fate. Any other day and he wouldn’t give half a damn about nosy underlings but right now he feels stretched too thin. Transparent. Ben’s sweater hangs around him like a shroud, making him feel small and childish and so damn unsure of what’s to come in this strange place with its strange people. He wonders what his father would think of him like this. Nothing fond, to be sure. 

They arrive at a door just as nondescript as the others they’ve passed. Statura steps forward, shooting a look at Hux over his shoulder before knocking smartly. “General? I’ve brought Hux.”

Hux can hear a shuffling inside and the murmur of soft voice before the door opens to reveal a flustered looking Ben. His cheeks are pink and his eyes look wild, and a nervous sort of flows through his body as he focuses immediately on Hux. “Are you alright?”

Hux frowns, eyebrows knit. “I’m fine. Are _you_ alright?”

 

Ben purses his lips, nodding. “I’m fine.”

Inside the room a throat clears, drawing the attention of all three men in the doorway. Statura looks at Ben, raising an eyebrow. “I expect you have elsewhere to be?”

Ben grits his teeth but manages a small nod. “I expect I do.” He turns his attention back to Hux, scraping his teeth over his bottom lip. “I won’t be far, okay? I’ll come find you afterwards, show you around the base.” For a moment he looks like he might do something stupid, like reach out and touch Hux, grab his shoulder or take his hand. Hux takes a step back to prevent such a catastrophe.

“Go before you make things worse,” Hux says smoothly. “We’ll find each other after.”

He can’t tell if Ben is hurt or nervous. It doesn’t matter. With a deep breath he enters into the room.

It’s an office, so much different from the one he’s enjoyed on The Finalizer. Where his quarters were streamlined and gleaming with polished metal and smooth plastics, Leia Organa’s office is an amalgamation of whatever she can find that might be useful to her. There’s a datapad on the desk, an old thing that looks to be in dire need of an update - if it doesn’t completely fall apart first. Her desk is used and battered, and the chair behind it seems to have stuffing coming out of the cushion. It’s all he can do to keep the disdain off of his face.

“We do what we can with what we have, General Hux.”

Hux turns, irritated at himself for being caught off guard. He tries hard to school his features into something complacent as he regards her. “General Organa. I apologize for our previous meeting.” Now that he’s not spilling his guts all over her feet he can get a better look at her. She’s surprisingly small; he’s at least a foot taller. From what Hux as heard Han Solo is of average height. Where the hell did Ben come from? He tries to push away all thoughts of Ben, taking in her simple, homespun uniform and the intricate hairstyle designed to keep her long gray hair off her face. She’s severe, precise. Yet somehow there’s still a warmth inside of her. He can see her sense of humor glittering in her eyes.

Leia Organa gives what can only be defined as a smirk, motioning to the chair across from her desk. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, General.”

“Not a general anymore, I suppose,” he says, the words carrying no bitterness or anger. Just the simple truth. “I’ve abandoned my post. Just Hux will do.”

“No first name?” she asks, taking her own seat and folding her arms on top of the desk.

He shakes his head. “None that I wish to associate myself. I’m named for someone I don’t care to remember, and I don’t appreciate being forced to live in his shadow.”

Leia nods, sitting back in her chair. “Hux it is, then. _Are_ you feeling better?”

The question feels like a trap. He can’t help but think of his initial interviews with Ben, the way he was calm and polite and kind in an attempt to win his favor. He can’t read Leia like he can her son, can’t figure out if this is a ploy. He swallows hard, nodding. 

“Much, thank you. I think my body needed some time to get over the shock of what I’d done.”

Leia’s eyes sharpen at that, focusing in on him with a hawk-like precision. “Yes, what you’d done. What exactly is it that you’ve done, Hux?”

Hux draws in a breath, the muscles in his body going tense as he meets her eyes. “Your son hasn’t told you yet?”

“Oh, he’s told me plenty.” Leia stands, clasping her hands behind her back as she goes to stand before the window. Beyond is a world of lush greenery and sunshine, so different than any planet he’s ever known. “He told me of how he was captured, how your interrogations were always civil and nonviolent. How you struggled when the matter was put in the hands of that so-called Knight.” She turns, raising an eyebrow. “He also mentioned that you kissed him.”

Hux hisses out a breath, tightening his hands into fists. “God damnit Solo…”

Laughter surprises him from his anger. He looks up to see Leia shaking her head. “He is his father’s son. I can’t say I’m surprised in the least.” She returns to her seat, this time sitting more comfortable. “I’ve heard his side of the story, yes. I can also hear his fondness for you, his affection.” If she notices Hux’s face flushing she politely ignores it. “I have to be objective. Everyone at this base trusts me with their lives, trusts me to make decisions that will move us forward and end the regime of the Order. I can’t be soft on you because my son is taken by a pale man with freckles.”

Hux scowls.

“Oh, don’t,” she chuckles. “The first thing you’re going to need if you’re going to make it here is a sense of humor. Now tell me what happened.”

So he does. He starts from the beginning, from that crystal clear morning on Starkiller Base when he was called to Snoke’s chamber and given his instructions. He’s honest, clearly detailing his excitement at being presented with such a task, his eagerness to prove his worth to Supreme Leader. To break Ben Solo in his own special way.

“I didn’t want to ruin him,” he says, voice almost mechanical as he looks at a fixed spot over Leia’s shoulder. “I wanted to make him ours. To mold him into something better, a fine weapon to be used by the Order.”

“You’ll learn quickly that my son isn’t a fan of being told what to do,” Leia says blandly, sipping from a tin mug. “And when someone is trying to manipulate him, for whatever reason? He always catches on.”

Hux gives a small, dull laugh. “Trust me. I know.”

He manages to keep his composure as he tells her of the interrogation with Kiva despite the way his stomach still turns at the thought of Ben bruised and bloodied in the chair. When he tells her of the kiss he keeps it as simple as possible, posturing it as a simple act of mercy for a man he thought was about to die. He’s blushing again. He’s sure she’ll see right through the act.

“And then they told me to kill him, and I decided it was time to go,” he finishes simply. “I marched Ben out of the chamber like I was taking him elsewhere under orders, about halfway to the ship we were caught and had to fight our way out. He used those...powers of his, managed to save me from Kiva before he could do irreparable harm to my mind. After we took off I lost consciousness, and woke up here.’ He pauses for a moment before adding, “Sorry about your shoes.”

Leia waves her hand dismissively. “I’m a mother and an aunt, I’ve had sick on me before. I have one more question and I need your honesty Hux. Everything rides on this.” She leans in, and once more he feels pinned under her gaze. “Why did you save him?”

The question is like being dunked in cold water. He stares at her for a moment with wide eyes, hands moving to fidget with the bottom of the sweater as he frantically looks for an answer. He’s had plenty of time to think about this. Plenty of moments when he sat with Ben in the medbay and could have contemplated the nature of their relationship and why Hux couldn’t let him die. Instead he frantically pushed the thought away, buried it deep where the light of day couldn’t touch it. And now the question is before him once more, burning and blinding and refusing to be forgotten.

“I…” He swallows, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. “It wasn’t right for him to die. He hadn’t done anything, his only crime was in being your son.” His voice softens and he begins to stammer, mortified at such a display of weakness. “It...felt like the right thing to do. I had to get him out of there.”

Leia frowns. “And you gave up everything you had, your entire life and future, because saving one man felt like the right thing?” A thought occurs to her; her face softens, but she doesn’t voice the Revelation. “And what now?”

Hux sighs, rubbing at his temples. “I suppose that’s up to you, isn’t it? I’m at your mercy. Beyond that I have absolutely no idea.”

A long silence stretches between them, the weight of Leia’s consideration heavy on his shoulders. “Alright. Here’s what we’re going to do.” She stands, moving once more to the window. “You’ll be allowed to stay. Amnesty, in return for any and all information you can give us on the Order, their weapons, and their plans.” She turns, that soft look on her face again. “And for returning my son.”

She takes a deep breath, moving to stand beside the desk. “But I can’t risk you being a double agent, here to get what information you can just to send it back to them. So you’ll be expected to stay here, in the base. No access to communications, at least until I’ve decided that your intentions are what you claim them to be.”

The offer is fair. Generous even. She could have him hung from a tree outside for his part in this war, but he’s being put on house arrest. He nods, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Thank you.”

She nods. “Statura will be in charge of your time, he’ll find things for you to do around base to be useful. We can’t afford idleness. Your evenings and nights will be your own.” When Hux opens his mouth she raises a hand to silence him, shaking her head. “I’m sorry but I don’t have time right now to discuss the finer details, I’ll leave that to you and Statura. I’ve got a meeting to attend, but I promise to make time for you this week.” He sees the strength of her leadership flowing out of her, her desire to be everywhere at once, to stretch her attention out among her people without sacrificing the needs of anyone. It’s strange.

He stands, offering a small bow. “Thank you for your time, General.’

She nods, returning the small movement that seems to mean so much. “Until later, then.”

The door opens and shuts, and he’s alone in the room.

It seems unwise to let himself dwell on what’s just happened. The last week has been so much, if he doesn’t compartmentalize and deal with it in small chunks he’s going to go crazy. Strangely enough, a small part of him is excited to find Ben and tell him the good news. He tugs the sleeves of his sweater up over his wrists and walks into the hall.

“Admiral,” he says politely. “I’ve been dismissed.”

Statura eyes him for a moment before nodding. “Come on, I’m sure you need to eat. You look like you’ve got some sort of wasting disease.” Without another word he turns and heads back down the hall. This time they walk right towards the bustle and noise of the main base, Hux’s anxiety mounting as he hears the chatter of people. There’s no turning back, he has to face this.

As soon as they walk into the mess hall the room goes silent. Hux keeps his gaze trained forward as hundreds of faces turn in his direction, some people even standing to get a better look at the famed Monster General of the First Order. He knows he deserves this but it still makes him want to crawl under a table and stay there until he dies.

A few steps in and the whispering begins. He hears his name over and over, can _feel_ it filling the room and buzzing around him like a swarm of angry insects.

And then he hears it shouted across the room, warm and eager, and the hive falls silent as he sees Ben loping over to him. Before he can protest he’s gathered into those massive arms, held against the broad chest.

“See?” Ben whispers, voice saturated with relief. “I knew it’d be alright.”

Hux trembles as he begrudgingly lifts his arms to hug Ben back. If this is even a hug, he’s never really had one more. All he knows is that everyone is watching him, watching as the beloved son of the Resistance gathers him near and whispers soft words into his hair.

He decides not to correct Ben, though he’s fairly sure nothing will ever be alright again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry that this is late D: Lots of stuff happening over at the Kylux Big Bang which I co-mod, but now we're all caught up!


	7. Chapter 7

To anyone with a sense of organization and proper layout the Resistance base would make no sense, so to someone like Hux - with too _much_ of it - it’s an absolute nightmare. He wanders through a maze of halls, past a myriad of rooms that seem as though they were tacked on in afterthought, a look of confusion on his face as one hand absently skims the faded plaster and cracking paint as he searches. Every time his fingertips graze a door he stops to look within and every time he turns up with nothing. No Ben, no General Organa, no Statura to fix him with a stern gaze and find something for him to do. He’s utterly and hopelessly lost. 

It’s been two weeks and he still feels like a helpless child lost in the woods. His days have thus far been filled with menial tasks to keep him busy; alphabetizing file folders, peeling carrots in the mess that he won’t even be able to eat, cleaning when there’s nothing else for him to do. It all feels so utterly...beneath him, a thought he makes the mistake of voicing just once to Statura at the end of a very long day.

The Admiral shoots him a more severe frown than usual, eyebrows knit as he looks Hux up and down. “What makes it so beneath you?”

“I’m a _General,_ ” Hux seeths, throwing down a brush he’s been using to scour oil off of scrap metal. It’ll be repurposed later into spare parts for the fleet. “I didn’t give my youth to the Academy, my _life_ to the Order, to wash a bunch of filthy bolts.”

Statura looks taken aback, though his expression quickly snaps back into distaste. “You think you’re above doing you share?” He steps closer, leaning in. “I’ll remind you, Hux, that you are no longer a General. You abandoned your position in coming here. It’s only through General Organa’s trust and goodwill and her son’s very vocal protests against any sort of punishment that you’re allowed to stay.” He straightens his spine, hands clasped neatly behind his back. “I’d suggest you don’t forget that as you moan and complain about your tasks and duties here.”

For once Hux finds himself thoroughly chastised. He lowers his gaze, giving a small nod and returning to his work.

And that’s been his time among the Resistance so far. The people he passes in the hallways still look at him like he’s an infiltrator there to get information for the Order, Ben still looks at him like he hung the sun and moon but refuses to make any sort of real move towards discussing their feelings towards each other (which Hux _certainly_ isn’t going to initiate and isn’t even sure he could press through without dying from the humiliation). Hux justs...exists.

He turns a corner to be faced with another long hallway, another row of doors that won’t lead to anything he needs or anywhere he’s needed. It’s all beginning to feel like some sick metaphor for his life, and it’s that thought that sets the panic creeping up the back of his throat. It claws at him like some hideous creature ascending a rock face, sinking its wicked talons deep inside him as it makes its way up into his brain. His lungs start to struggle for air, breath coming in wheezing pants. The tips of his fingertips go numb, his mouth starts to tingle. He’s going to die here, lost in some forsaken corner of this forsaken base and his skeleton is going to sit there for years until someone wanders by and finds him and there will be no grave marker, no one to mourn, and his sisters will always wonder what happened to him-

“Are you alright?”

Hux nearly jumps out of his skin, the sudden presence of another person not helping his current state. He turns to look at the man standing behind him, lifting his hands to claw at the stays on his collar in an attempt to keep his shirt from suffocating him.

The man - Hux recognizes him, he knows him, FN-2187 but no, that’s not right, he’s got a name now but Hux doesn’t remember it - moves closer, hands held up in a gentling motion as he steps into Hux’s personal space. Hux doesn’t have the strength or presence of mind to move away. Instead he continues to choke for oxygen as the man grabs him by the shoulders, a firm but friendly grasp that seems to anchor him back to reality.

“It’s alright,” FN-2187 says, wide brown eyes worried. “You’re okay. You’re just having a panic attack. I get them too sometimes, trust me. Just take a deep breath.” He demonstrates, drawing a deep breath through his nose and letting it out slowly through his mouth. He smiles when Hux tries to mimic the action. “Good. See? You’re doing good! Just keep going.”

Hux would normally hate _needing_ someone like this, needing help, but it’s too much of a relief to see another human being for him to be indignant. Instead he continues to follow the man’s instructions and encouraging words until he’s breathing normally.

“Are you alright?”

Hux gives a small nod, rubbing his palm over his face. “I…” He takes another great gulp of air, ashamed to find he’s trembling. “I know you,” he finally says, weakly. “I don’t...I don’t know your name, though.”

The man looks surprised before laughing. “Finn. It’s Finn. Yeah, I guess you knew me as something else back then, didn’t you?”

“How do you not hate me?” Hux blurts the words out before he has a chance to stop himself - he’s got to stop doing that. The sentiment is genuine, though. Hux oversaw up the program that took this man from his family as a child, took away his chances of a normal life and dashed them to the ground. It would make more sense for this...this _Finn,_ to corner him here in a hidden part of the base and beat him to a bloody pulp. 

Instead Finn studies him closely, an amused expression on his face. “You figured it out,” he says, because stars forbid anyone _not_ speak in riddles these days.

Hux folds his arms, raising an eyebrow and attempting to scowl. “Figured what out?”

“It.” Finn shrugs, giving a vague gesture to the structure around him. “I figure we come from the same place, don’t we? We were both brought up in the Order against our will, just in different places. It was probably harder to see your own indoctrination because you had a family that believed, good schooling and a place of power. But you were indoctrinated all the same. You looking for Ben?”

Hux is stunned by the suddenness of the question after such clarity. He nods.

“Come on, I’ll show you the way.” Finn leads him down the hall before continuing his thought. “Anyway. We both realized what we were doing was bullshit and got out. Sometimes it just takes different reasons to wake someone up. Mine was watching Kiva kill that old man on Jakku. Yours was facing the idea of losing Ben.”

“Not losing him,” Hux says quickly. “He’s not mine to lose. Just. I couldn’t let him be killed. It made no sense. None of it makes any sense.”

Finn tosses him a knowing grin. Hux decides not to honor it with a response. He’s saved the trouble when they pass through a door and into a courtyard, the hangars at the far end.

“He’s in there,” Finn says, pointing. “Fooling around with what’s left of the TIE Fighter you crash landed in. He’s convinced he can make it functional again.”

“That sounds like a foolish thought he might have, yes,” Hux says with a weary sigh. “Thank you, Finn. I...I appreciate your help tremendously.” 

Finn nods, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder. Hux isn’t entirely sure what the gesture is supposed to mean but it feels nice to not be treated like some diseased animal. “No worries. You’ll get there, just keep moving forward.” He gives a small, cheerful salute before turning and heading back into the main building.

Hux bites his lip and watches him go. “If only I knew what direction forward even is.” He sighs and smoothes his shirt down, heading into the hangar.

His first glimpse of Ben is from the waist down, as his companion is currently half in the cockpit of the TIE fighter. It’s, admittedly, a nice view. The standard-issue cargo pants Ben wears don’t do much to hide the muscular curve of his ass, and he’s got them rolled up to the knee to show off his shapely calves. Hux allows himself a moment to admire before clearing his throat and making his presence known.

Ben immediately jerks back out of the ship, loose strands of hair falling in his face as he whips around and smiles. “Hey!” He hops off of the ladder he’d been standing on, wiping thick black grease onto his pants as he approaches.

“Don’t hug me,” Hux warns, holding a hand up.

Ben laughs, folding his arms. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know. What have you been up to today?”

Hux shrugs, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He’s steadfastly trying to ignore how good Ben looks in nothing but his pants and a thin black undershirt, hair pulled off of his face and hands covered in oil. He smells like moveable parts and the slight musk of exertion. It’s overwhelmingly good and for a fleeting second he wonders if anything on the workbench would be irreparably damaged if he flung it all on the floor and let Ben fuck him over the surface.

“With Statura for most of the morning,” he says after a moment. He feels flushed. “Organizing personnel files. Then lunch, then I spent most of the afternoon trying to find you.”

Ben nods, grabbing a towel from a nearby workbench and wiping his face. “What did you eat?”

“A sandwich,” Hux says. “It was...good. Different.”

“And you kept it down?”

Hux sighs. This is a common occurrence between them, now that Hux is eating actual food Ben makes him detail each meal and whether or not he got sick. “Yes. It was simple and tasted good and I did not vomit after. Satisfactory?”

Ben flashes that damned smile of his. “Satisfactory. Plans for the evening?”

“None,” he says, shrugging. “I was going to hunt down some holojournals, or an old datapad someone might let me use so I can do some reading. My brain is beginning to feel stagnant. Dull.”

In a move that leaves Hux feeling deezy, Ben reaches forward to hold his hand and squeeze. It’s a quick movement, over all too soon. “Sounds good. I’ll find you one after dinner. You ready to try to eat again?”

Hux looks affronted. “Ben that’s _three_ meals. In one day! Do I look like some sort of glutton?” Back on Arkanis they’d eaten simple breakfasts and an early supper, and in the Academy and on Finalizer there had been one substantial meal and then protein bars in the morning and evening. Three full meals? It’s far too decadent.

Ben is looking at him again with that look that means Hux has said something that saddens him. It’s a weird mix of pitying and fond. “Hux, most people eat three meals a day. At least on the planets I’ve been to.”

“Yes well, I’m not from one of those planets and I’d rather not lose my girlish figure.”

There’s a small locker room attached to the hanger, and Ben leads Hux in before stripping off his shirt. Hux feels his mouth go dry, pointedly looking away. “Just something small,” Ben says as he moves behind a wall to a small row of showers. As he turns the water on he raises his voice to be heard. “Some fruit or something, just to get some calories in you. And to get you in the practice of eating dinner.”

Hux sighs, shaking his head. “Fine. Fine! Only because you won’t shut up until I agree.”

“Exactly.” Hux can almost hear Ben’s grin. Bastard.

As Ben cleans off the grime of his day Hux looks frantically for a distraction, settling on a mirror nearby above a sink. He steps close, leaning in to examine his own reflection. What he sees doesn’t exactly thrill him. He’s lost weight since he left The Finalizer with Benl. Shadows under his eyes remind him of the alarming amount of sleep he’s missed out on lately. He’s a disaster. Once a sharp figure of strength and control, he looks like a spool of thread that’s swiftly begun to unravel.

The shower shuts off and Ben emerges, towel wrapped around his waist. He eyes Hux in front of the mirror, wary. “You alright?”

“I’ve been better,” Hux responds, expression pinched. He turns, folding his arms and leaning back against the basin of the sink. “Why haven’t you kissed me again?” They’ve had ample opportunity, after each dull and demeaning day he spends his evenings with Ben, first being coaxed into eating and then being dragged around the base as Ben shows him this or that or introduces him to some terrible new person.

Ben looks at him bewildered. “I didn’t kiss you the first time. You kissed me.”

“Damnit, Solo,” Hux huffs out, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “You know very well what I mean. You wanted me to kiss you. And I would wager that you might want to kiss me again. But you haven’t.” A thousand reasons swirl through his mind, most involving his phenomenal loss of power and his even greater loss of weight. He must look like some sort of pathetic animal one might find in a rainstorm, thin and hungry and wet and damnit he’s given up everything for this stupid boy and why is this coming out _now_ -

Still-damp hands grasp his hips, holding him tight as Ben draws him close. There’s a grave look in his eyes, a look that Hux isn’t sure he likes. “Hey, listen to me.” Ben flicks hair out of his eyes with a sharp jerk of his chin before leaning in to pin Hux with his gaze. “You’ve been through a lot, do you understand me? You’ve done something huge. Something incredible. And whether you realize it or not, you need time to recover without me breathing down your neck or chasing after you like a horny teenager.”

Hux shrugs one shoulder, looking anywhere but Ben’s eyes. “Maybe I like being chased after.”

“Maybe you do,” Ben says with a fond laugh. “But that doesn’t mean it’s the right thing for you right now. And sometimes you’ve gotta be told what’s good for you.”

That’s laughable. “I will never sit complacently as I’m told what’s good for me,” Hux points out, sulking like a scolded child.

Ben snorts. “Trust me, I believe it.” He leans in and brushes his lips against Hux’s forehead, more comfort than caress. For a terrible moment Hux thinks he might go weak in the knees. “I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t suppose you are either. When you’re ready...when you’re really ready, you come to me. I’m not shoving any added pressure onto you.”

Hux looks up miserably. “You’re terrible and good and I hate you.”

“I feel like I’ve heard those exact words out of your mouth already,” Ben says, smiling as he pulls on his clothes. “Come on, let’s eat.”

*

“I’m not putting that in my mouth.”

Finn laughs as Ben brandishes a strange looking berry at Hux, leaning heavily against the man sitting next to him. It’s strange having an...entourage, clique, whatever. _Friends_. As soon as Hux and Ben had chosen a table to eat at they’d been joined by Finn and another man, a pilot who’d introduced himself as Poe and immediately begun to treat Hux as if he’s been there all along. Hux isn’t entirely sure if he likes it, but it is nice to fit in. He knows the importance of fitting in, of being part of the machine.

“Hux, it’s a fucking blackberry,” Ben laughs, eyes wide. “It’s fruit! Put it in your mouth!”

Hux presses his lips together and turns his face away like a child avoiding his supper. “It’s lumpy. I don’t like it.”

 

“Lumpy,” Finn practically giggles, resting his head against Poe’s shoulder.

Poe smiles and shakes his head, curls bouncing gently. He seems to be the calm in the storm, always smiling but never out of hand. “Hux, you’ll like it. It’s sweet but a bit tart.”

“Like you,” Ben adds unhelpfully.

“I’m going to shove that stupid berry into your face,” Hux warns.

“What _will_ you try?” Finn asks, and Hux realizes with irritation that his smile is infectious. 

He looks down at the small selection of fruits laid before him, examining his options. It’s been a blessedly long time since he’s had fruit, and part of him can’t remember if he ever really has. There are so many different shapes and colors. He’d read once that the mind has a natural response to the bright colors of fruit, that it’s natural to see them and immediately recognize them as a source of sustenance. He’s _also_ read that some of the most poisonous creatures are brightly colored, a genetic warning sign against eating them. He isn’t sure which reaction he’s having right now. 

Finally he settles on one, a deep purple fruit, round and a good shape to fit in the size of his palm.

“What’s this?” he demands, eying the thing as if it might bite him,

“A plum,” Poe says, an affectionate arm wrapped around Finn’s shoulder. Ben had said Finn had found someone here, hadn’t he? Hux had forgotten.

He sighs, bringing the plum to his lips. For a moment he just rests it there, lets himself inhale the soft, sweet scent, wonders as his mouth begins to water. All too aware of how three sets of eyes are watching him, he bites.

_Oh._

Sweetness floods his tongue, just shy of being too much as he slowly chews and swallows it down. He can’t stop the way his eyes go wide or how he takes another eager bite, watching as juice spills from the pale flesh and runs down his fingertips. Loathe to miss any bit of it he ducks his head down, licking the stickiness from his hand.

Ben clears his throat. Finn laughs. Poe watches with a strange encouraging expression. “Is it good?” the pilot asks, smiling.

Hux nods eagerly, swallowing what’s in his mouth before answering. “It’s incredible.”

“Good.” Poe takes the blackberry from Ben, holding it forward. “Now this.”

*

It’s late and Hux finds himself still seated at their table in the mess, Finn tracing idle patterns against the wood as people filter out. Ben and Poe have long gone to bed, their duties requiring them to be up early and well rested. Just the two remain, making small talk when there’s something to say but otherwise sitting in comfortable silence.

A thought comes to Hux, and he tries not to think too much about it as he speaks it. “You laugh so much,” he says, glancing over at Finn. “How are you not...angry?”

Finn looks up, surprised. “Are you? 

“Yes,” Hux says, a disbelieving laugh pushing past his lips. “I’m...I’m so angry, Finn. I’m furious. That I don’t know my place anymore. That I don’t know how to feel about any of this. Because I’m not sitting here thinking that I’ve been wrong my whole life, that the Order is evil and wicked and wrong. I’m sitting here thinking that it still makes sense but then I fall for some idiot boy with big ears and a crooked jaw and now I don’t belong _anywhere_. Not here, not there, I just...exist. And I’m so fucking mad.”

He realizes he’s balling his fists. He takes a slow breath and opens his hands, pressing his palms flat to the table.

“I’ve got no purpose,” he continues, voice low. “Statura finds odd jobs for me here and there, but it’s menial nonsense that anyone can do. I’ve got no specialty here.”

Finn makes a thoughtful noise, resting his chin on his palm as he listens to Hux speak. He takes a moment to process his own thoughts before responding.

“It’s different for you,” he says slowly, gazing thoughtfully into nothing. “You had more riding on you within the Order. You were important. I was just a soldier, and all Stormtroopers are meant to be expendable. You know that.” Finn holds up his hand as Hux opens his mouth to speak. “That wasn’t a dig, I’m not chastising you. It’s just a face. So I think it was easier for me because I feel more important here. More...individual. Meanwhile importance is exactly what you’re missing, and what you’ve been so used to.”

Hux is vaguely surprised at how succinctly Finn has named it. “Yes, yes that’s it exactly.”

Finn smiles slowly. “Ben thinks you’re important.”

“Oh Jesus not this,” Hux groans, letting his head fall forward to rest on the table. 

“Yes this,” Hux insists. “You saved his life by giving him an out, Hux. That’s not a small thing. You had the entire Order riding on your shoulders, and you cast it aside for him. You got him home.”

The mess has cleared out, it’s just the two of them and their hushed conversation. Hux makes a dismissive motion with his hands. “So good, I’ve directly affected...two people.”

Finn laughs, not unkind but jarring nonetheless. “How many people do you need to touch to feel important? Maybe he could be enough.”

Hux opens his mouth. He closes it again. The process is repeated three times before he stands, opening and closing his hands uselessly at his sides. “I. I have to go.”

Finn nods, standing as well. “Yeah, Poe is going to wonder what’s keeping me. Not that he should be awake, but ah well.” He reaches over, giving Hux’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “You can let your world be narrow. Smaller. I bet you’d be happier that way anyway.” With a wink and a wave he sees himself out, leaving Hux in the empty dining hall.

Hux lets his feet lead the way, the route back to the barracks ingrained in him by now. He doesn’t have to think about it anymore. Which is a relief, his mind needs a few blessed moments of silence and emptiness. He doesn’t want to think about any of it. Of the Order, the Resistance, his place or lack thereof in either. He doesn’t want to think about what tomorrow might bring, or what awful dreams might haunt him that night. 

He just wants to let go of it all.

When he reaches the door he’s looking for it’s already open. Ben stands in the entrance to his quarters with a confused look on his face, hair already mussed from the sleep that's been interrupted. 

“I felt you coming,” he says vaguely, reaching a hand out. Hux takes it and allows Ben to lead him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit that took me forever to write. Thanks for being patient guys, there was...a lot going on irl and it sucked the desire to write out of me. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm hoping to have the next one up VERY soon!


	8. Chapter 8

Walking into the room feels like stepping into another world - a world where he is not a General and never was, a world where Ben is just a boy he loves and nothing is riding on this moment. A world where he isn’t scared, isn’t shaking. “I can’t do this,” he manages, the words nearly sticking in his throat before he’s able to force them out. “Without you. I can’t do this without you.” Despite every urge to look away, hide his face, he keeps his gaze locked on Ben’s piercing brown eyes. It is the only bravery left in him. “You told me… you didn’t want to add more stress to my plate. But that’s not what you do, Ben. You’re the only stupid oasis I have in this forsaken galaxy now.”

The shock on Ben’s face almost drives him back out into the hall, back to his room where he is calm and quiet and isn’t making any bold confessions that could change the course of his entire life. He has to carefully remind himself that he already knows Ben’s feelings towards him. He just needs to push through this one, awkward moment, and then he’ll be alright. Everything will be alright.

“I need you,” he spits, almost venomously. “I need you, alright? I can’t do this - any of this - without you. And that’s never happened to me before, and I positively despise you for making me...making me _feel_ things.”

At that Ben can only laugh, eyes sparkling in the darkness. The lights are still out, he hadn’t thought to turn one on before answering the door. The only illumination comes from the window behind him. It faces out onto the verdant lushness of D’qar, allows the moon to filter in and cast their bodies in an odd sort of glow.

“It’s okay, you know. To feel things.” Ben reaches out, delicately brushing a lock of hair out of Hux’s eyes. It’s getting long, so much longer than the Order would ever allow. He wants Ben’s fingers running through it, tugging the copper locks to force his face up for a kiss. He wants it falling in his eyes as he looks down at Ben, panting and desperate in his lap. He wants everything.

Seeming to read his mind - and perhaps he is. Ben runs his hands through Hux’s hair, stroking it loose with fingers that seem to shake in anticipation. “I...I want to take it slow,” he murmurs, a strange mix of tenderness and pain on his face. It’s like he’s afraid he might hurt Hux, might ruin this moment. “You deserve-”

“What you think I deserve and what I actually deserve are two very different things,” Hux says, and he’s ashamed to realize he’s trembling as well. “I…”

Ben leans in, practically holding his breath. “You what?”

“I want you.” The words fall from his lips like blood spat on a floor. It’s out, and there’s no going back. “No more waiting. No more dancing around each other.” He looks down, trying to hide the way emotion colors his cheeks. “I’m tired, Ben. I’m tired and I need you.”

There’s a beat, and then the impact of two planets colliding. It’s hard to describe the kiss Ben crushes against his mouth - the closest he can come is that it’s like crash landing a TIE-fighter on an enemy planet after running from the only life you’ve ever known. There will be time later - he hopes - to do this slowly, explore each other with reverent touches and bated breath. Now, now he just...aches. He aches to be as close as two people can possibly be. His hands reach forward to grab Ben’s hips, guiding him closer with urgency.

Ben parts his lips, gentle flicks of his tongue coaxing Hux’s into his mouth. Ben’s nimble fingers undress him with a single-mindedness Hux can’t help but admire. Hux doesn’t have the time or the patience to be self-conscious, he’s too busy plucking loose the ties on Ben’s pants. Once they’re undone he pushes them down, taking a step back to drink in Ben’s body in the dim light of the room.

No, he certainly doesn’t deserve this.

Ben is fit. Phenomenally so. Hux already knew as much, but seeing the full package really drives it home. He’s trim, muscular in all the right places without being too bulky or...overly-done. His thighs and biceps are absolutely obscene. Hux wants to sink his teeth in, leave bruises and crescent shaped bites to mark his territory, leave reminders for Ben to find later when he’s alone, showering or dressing or touching himself. And his cock…

“Fucking hell,” Hux breathes, eyes wide. Ben seems to be having his own crisis, hands fidgeting at his sides as if he’s trying to control himself, contain his need. That won’t do. Hux moans softly, reaching out to him. “Come here...”

They move together once more, bodies pressed close as if they were made to complete each other. Hux releases a shaking breath that ghosts over Ben’s lips, a soft sigh between them. Thighs slot together, hands grasp and touch, lips part as if to speak before snapping shut. Hux laughs after a moment, shaking his head at Ben’s look of fond confusion.

“How are we going to fit in your bed?” he asks, rubbing his thumbs over the sharp ridges of Ben’s hipbones. 

Ben glances over, grinning. “Oh, we’ll find a way.” Without warning he ducks down to scoop up an indignant Hux, carrying him over and depositing him gently on the bed. Ben carefully positions himself over Hux, settling into the V of his splayed legs.

“This good?” he asks, grasping Hux’s hair and tilting his head back to suck kisses along his throat. Hux is too busy rubbing his hard length against Ben’s stomach to answer, shivering and moaning and rutting against his hot skin. He honestly can’t remember how long it’s been since he’s gotten off with someone else, and he’s _never_ had sex with genuine emotion behind it. It’s always been just another bodily function, something to be enjoyed but never ruled by. This is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. Not only is the friction divine, not only is Ben’s mouth hot and wet against his skin, but he feels safe.

He’s never felt safe before.

Ben’s teeth tug firmly at his nipple, laughter rumbling low in his throat. “What’s so funny?” Hux sniffs, eyebrow arching.

Ben shrugs, pressing a sweet kiss to the rosy pink skin and swirling his tongue around the bud in tender circles. “You. This. I guess I can’t believe that this is real, that we ended up here.”

Fondness fills the spot in Hux’s chest usually reserved for mild irritation and spite. He winds his fingers in Ben’s hair, guiding him close for a kiss. “Maybe you’re worth giving everything up for, you ridiculous boy,” he mumbles softly against parted lips, eyes heavy lidded as they meet Ben’s. He feels a strange sort of severity within him, as if there’s lightning in the distance and he can only watch the storm roll in. Something's coming, something that can’t be stopped.

Ben gets that look on his face again, the one that makes it seem like he’s been run through. “Hux…”

Hux panics as the dark clouds press closer, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Don’t say it.”

“I have to,” Ben chokes, leaning in and kissing a path along Hux’s jaw to whisper in his ear. “I love you, Hux. _I love you._ ”

And that’s it. He’s ruined. He makes a low, broken sound, shaking his head again. “Ben…”

“Say it,” Ben pleads, eyes dark and glassy. “Say it, I know you feel it too.”

Hux swallows, trying to force it all down, deny his feelings like he always does. This time it doesn’t work. “I...feel the same,” he says, defeated. He can’t say the words - he never has before - but it’s close enough. It’s close enough for Ben too, Hux can tell by the look on his face. 

“Hux,” he breathes, kissing him sweetly, softly. “Hux, I love you…”

Hux moans, wrapping his legs around Ben’s slender hips and pulling him closer. “Shut up and fuck me, _please_...” The way they’re lying causes their cocks to bump and rub together, snatching the breath from his lungs. He can feel the length of Ben’s dick against his own, can feel the way precome slides down the shaft. “Please, please…”

Ben kisses him again, stroking soothingly along his sides. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you.” He reaches over with a preposterously long arm, fishing blindly through his night table until he produces a bottle of lube. Sitting back on his heels, he licks his lips as he takes in the body stretched out before him. “Flip over?”

“No, like this,” Hux urges, spreading his knees wider. “Let me kiss that silly crooked face while you’re inside me…” He hopes it comes out as the endearment he is, he adores Ben’s off-center jaw, his prominent ears and his nose. He’s relieved when Ben blushes, ducking his head down and kissing the center of his chest.

A large hand squeezes his thigh before Ben grabs a pillow, sliding it under Hux’s hips to angle them up. Open. Inviting. “Sweet talker.” Once he has Hux in position he uncaps the bottle in his hand, slicking his fingers. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, reaching down to lightly stroke between his cheeks, teasing over the tight ring of muscle. “Has it been long?”

“Since I’ve been fucked?” Hux asks, smirking. “In the darkness of the bedroom he can just make out the flush of Hux’s cheeks. Good. “Mm, not too long. I do like my toys.”

There’s a strange burst of an image in his head, something that isn’t quite a memory but isn’t too far off. He sees himself kneeling over a toy, some silly, complicated looking thing nowhere close to the practical toys he normally favors. He sees himself raising onto his knees and sinking back down, his skin flushed, his hair wild and falling in his face as he pleasures himself. One hand teases an abused looking nipple while the other works furiously over his cock.

He realizes that it’s not a thought of his own at all, but something from Ben’s imagination; in his excitement he’s broadcast the fantasy like a blaster he never intended to fire, directly into Hux’s mind. Hux moans, reaching down to stroke Ben’s cheek. “Mm, would you like that? To watch me fuck myself, your own private show?”

When Ben responds he sounds as if he’s being held together by the weakest thread, a ragged thing that could snap at any moment. “We’re going to have to discuss that in further detail later.” 

Hux moans softly, arching his back as Ben rubs intently along his hole. “L-later, of course.” For now he has Ben’s slick fingers gliding and stroking over him, not nearly enough to satisfy the aching need that starts somewhere deep in his chest and radiates through his entire body. Just before he can demand more Ben presses in with just his middle finger, his movements steady and sure despite his shaking moan. It’s perfect. His finger is thick and long, and Hux squirms happily in an attempt to work it deeper. “I...ah, oh yes…”

“You’re...oh god, you’re tight.” Ben watches with wild eyes the spot where his finger disappears into Hux’s body. He braces his forearm against the back of Hux’s thighs, pressing them up to give himself a better view. “Fuck, it might take hours to open you up…”

“Like hell it will,” Hux snaps, knees to his chest, crying out sharply as Ben’s finger slips deeper. The next sound is muffled by a mouth against his own, laughing and smiling and sucking at his bottom lip.

“Hush,” Ben soothes, rubbing gently at his inner walls. “You’ll wake the entire corridor.”

“Lucky for them,” he manages to whine. “More.”

Ben immediately obeys, thank the stars. His finger withdraws for a moment before two press back in, scissorings and spreading gently and trying to work Hux loose enough for a third. In the meantime he leans in, dragging frantic open-mouthed kisses along Hux’s stomach and then down, brushed over each hip, pressed to his knee, sucked along the inside of a trembling thigh. Ben makes a point to avoid his cock, though his eyes flicker hungrily to it each time it twitches or leaks a bead of precome from the tip. 

“You can touch it, you know,” Hux breathes, raking his fingers through Ben’s messy brown hair. “I’d rather like it if you did.”

Ben huffs out a laugh, his warm breath ghosting over the tip of Hux’s cock and drawing a moan from parted lips. “I could,” he muses, kissing just inside his hip. “Or I could make you wait until I’m fucking you, wait until you're begging me for it.”

Hux makes a face. “I don’t beg.”

The response seems to delight Ben, who just barely brushes his lips over the tip of Hux’s cock. “I could make you beg,” he warns, working a third finger in. He turns and crooks them just right, brushing that sweet spot that makes Hux’s toes curl and his head fall back against the pillow. “I bet you’re so pretty when you beg…”

“Ben…” Hux licks his lips, eyebrows knit. The fingers inside thrust and twist and coax, and it’s not too long before he’s rocking down on them in a desperate attempt to get more. “Ben, I’m ready, come on...”

Ben gives a little growl against Hux’s ribs, nipping and mouthing at the thin skin before kissing his way up to a peaked nipple. “Are you sure?” he asks, taking the sweet pink flesh between his lips and sucking, swirling his tongue when Hux makes a noise of utter delight. “I don’t...fuck, I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t,” Hux keens, arching against the mouth working against him. “Fuck, come on, I’m ready!”

Hux’s desperation must be all the reassurance Ben needs. He withdraws his fingers, lub smearing along Hux’s skin as large hands grip his hips and tug him further down the bed. Ben’s hair, wild and unmanageable as it is, falls in his face as he looks down at Hux with something more than hunger. He draws an uneasy breath, flicking the black tangles from his face. “You’re sure you’re-”

“Ask me if I’m ready one more time, Ben Solo,” Hux warns, eyes flashing in the dark. “See what happens.”

Ben chokes out a laugh, giving a short nod. He reaches between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around his length and slowly guiding himself in. Hux can feel his body trying to fight the intrusion at first, thighs and stomach going tense until Ben strokes along his side, whispers some soft, affectionate words that he can’t quite make out against his shoulder. It’s overwhelming. He turns his head, tries to hide his face in the pillow, needs to mask the stupid emotions that he’s sure are flickering across his face. Ben won’t let him though, fingers grasping his jaw and turning him back so lips can tease his own.

“No hiding,” Ben whispers, drawing out a bit before giving him more. “Not anymore.”

It’s a practice in self control. Ben’s ability to pull out and press back in ever-so-slowly is admirable, as is Hux’s ability to not push him onto the bed and ride him mercilessly until he’s gone blind. Finally Ben presses in the final inch, their bodies close as they gasp and pant for air.

Ben is trembling again, Hux can feel it. Those pillowy-soft lips are pressed tight together, eyes shut tight and eyebrows knit, every hard-earned muscle tense. Hux has never been one to soothe, but he makes his best attempt - he lifts his hand to Ben’s forehead, stroking light touches against his skin before brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“You’re so...” he whispers, not trusting his voice with anything louder, “Ben, you’re so beautiful…”

Honey-brown eyes open slowly, pinning him to the bed, running him through. With a shuddering breath Ben pulls out before giving a hard roll of his hips that pushes him all the way in. Hux can only whine at the sensation, head falling back against the pillow. “A-ah!”

“S’good?” Ben slurs, as if his mouth can’t handle anything other than soft, lazy syllables kissed into Hux’s skin. He sets a languid pace, the muscles in his arm taught as he braces himself on his palms. When this proves to be too much he drops to his forearms, taking the opportunity to kiss Hux breathless.

“Mm, it’s good, so good,” Hux sighs, tilting his head back and moaning in delight as Ben gets the hint and traces his tongue along his fluttering pulse. “Ben…”

“Yeah?” Ben sucks what feels suspiciously like a hickey against his collarbone, grinding hard into him and smirking as Hux cries out. He repeats the action, bringing a hand down to stroke Hux’s leaking cock.

Hux knows what he wants to say, but the words stick in his throat. He can only look at Ben with wide eyes, swallowing hard in an attempt to shake them loose. “I…ah!” Ben’s hips pick up speed, each thrust causing the bed to rock beneath them. Damned cheap Resistance equipment. He throws his arms around Ben’s neck, wrapping his thighs around his waist and rutting up to meet his hips.

He can feel his climax coming, though something strange inside of him wants to drag this on as long as possible. He wants more of Ben’s solid weight above him, more of his thick length spreading him open and stroking his sweet spot in a way that sends sparks of lightning up his spin. His nails drag along Ben’s skin, and after an alarming moment he realizes he’s drawn beads of blood in their wake.

Ben’s thrusts are losing their rhythm, his face hidden against Hux’s neck as he slams into him erratically. He turns in for a bruising kiss, the hand on Hux’s cock giving clever twists each time it reaches the head.

“Are you close?” he chokes, practically pleading. “Hux, please, I-”

“I love you,” Hux gasps out, a thrill of terror running through him. He immediately wants to catch the words in his hand, scoop them back into his mouth, but before he can Ben is kissing him with an enthusiasm unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Two more sharp thrusts and he’s coming, spilling into a hand that seems so large against his frail body, shouting his pleasure into Ben’s kiss. Ben isn’t far behind, his movements ragged and out of control as he spills deep into Hux.

They lay panting for a long moment, the realization of what’s changed between them heavy in the air. Ben is the first to move, drawing out and laughing when Hux makes a face at the mess between their legs. “Hold on,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Hux’s stomach before dragging himself out of bed. He moves to his closet, grabbing an undershirt before stumbling back over to clean them up as best he can.

“Promise me you’ll remember to wash that before you wear it,” Hux teases wearily, barely able to summon the energy to be properly sarcastic. He’s always sleepy after sex. He feels deliciously used, messy and slightly sore and wonderful. He makes the weakest noise of protest as Ben jostles him around, the larger man stretching out on his back before arranging Hux on top of him.

“Oh, is this how we’re sleeping?” Hux murmurs, resting his cheek on Ben’s shoulder, still tacky and cool with sweat. They’ll need to scrub themselves viciously in the morning. 

“Mhm.” Ben strokes a hand along his back, letting it rest on his ass. “This is absolutely how we’re sleeping.” A soft kiss to Hux’s temple, lips nuzzled into his hair. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

Hux finds he’s smiling. How strange. “Good night, ridiculous boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Plath's "Lady Lazarus."
> 
>  [Join me on Tumblr!](http://that-vicious-vixen.tumblr.com)
> 
> So much love and appreciation for the magnificent  [Ocktorok](http://ocktorok.tumblr.com), who helps me whip this shit into shape and keeps a running list of words I use WAY too much.


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